


I Need Memories

by sallyhopewrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Atsuhina - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Haikyuu - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Sorry, Inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Songs references, Temporary Amnesia, sallyhopewrites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyhopewrites/pseuds/sallyhopewrites
Summary: — “Hey, Samu? Was I ever in love?”— “Why do you ask, Tsumu?”— “Because I feel like I was. But I don’t remember anymore.”The amnesia fic I never thought I’ll write, but here we are.Now available in Russian, thanks toMua_umi!I Need Memories - RussianAnd in Chinese, thanks tokilltheriver!I Need Memories - Chinese
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 123
Kudos: 554
Collections: atsuhina





	I Need Memories

**Author's Note:**

> On Christmas eve, my friend texted me:  
>  _Write me a story that feels like sand slipping through fingers._
> 
> This is what I wrote for her.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> [Spotify playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1wzBwBEj3PX4dAP7o3c6Tf?si=DC0pE_zkSw-_Zw5RPFbOmw&utm_source=copy-link)  
> 

# · 1 ·

⊱• **_The sky above, below, around us lie_** •⊰

I DREAM OF THE accident again.

_Tires skid on road, bumper front crashes into rails … The yellow car topples over the bridge and goes into freefall … Headlamps glare into the abyss and I scream out … Hands slip over the steering wheel and rotate it wildly … The car jerks once and my head crashes against the wheel … My vision turns blurry …_

The last thing I remember is the headlight. So bright I thought it would blind me. For a moment it did.

When I wake up, I’m lying in a hospital bed devoid of life and personality. There are little cuts and scars all over my face that I don’t remember getting. A dark red clot rings my wrist as if my hands were tied with a rope for days; I don’t remember getting this, either. If I look out the window, a wall will greet me. The opposite building has a brick exterior with paint chipping off of it. I’ve already memorised every crack, each variation in its pattern. _Sixteen and a half bricks in the top row; fourteen in the next; then fifteen and eight._ Around my bed is an assortment of beeping devices that are keeping me alive. At least that’s their point, I think. I don’t know for sure what’s keeping me alive.

I should be dead. I don’t say that due to a sudden bout of self-loathing. I should technically be dead. It was a ‘miracle’ I managed to swim ashore.

That’s what they tell me, anyway. I don’t remember any of it myself. At first, when they kept prodding me about the accident on Christmas night and I stared back at them blankly, they thought I was in shock. They injected me with more tubes and upped the dosage of medication. When that didn’t work, they concluded that I, Miya Atsumu, was suffering from a case of mild Dissociative Amnesia. Big words for the simple fact that I have forgotten certain things I’ll remember over the next few months.

No big deal. We forget things all the time.

Samu is there by my side throughout. As soon as he hears I may have lost part of my memories, he barges into my hospital room and drills me with questions.

“What’s your name?”

“Who am I?”

“From where did you graduate and when?”

“What’s your profession?”

“Name everyone in your team and friend circle.”

That one takes me a while to answer. Not because I can’t remember, but because I happen to know so many people.

After I answer the last question, Samu gives me a strange look, nods, and disappears out the door. He returns in the evening with a doctor who prescribes me more medicines and—against my great reluctance—a therapist.

“No,” I say as soon as we are alone again.

“Yes,” my brother says. “This is not up to us, Tsumu.”

“He said it’s optional.”

“He also said it will benefit you.”

“I don’t understand. I will live, won’t I? Whole and intact. No lasting effects, either. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

Samu studies me with a slight frown. “Don’t you want your memories back?” he asks.

I manage a grin that pushes against the bandage wrapped around my head. “Who needs memories?” I say, echoing my old school’s motto. “They will only hold me down, won’t they?”

Samu clears the glass of water and wipes his mouth. “I will only ask this of you once. Whether or not you listen is up to you. Can you please be serious about your treatment? It’s easy to say you don’t need to remember when you don’t know what you might have forgotten.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

 _“Telling_ is not enough. The emotions associated with a particular memory can only return once you remember it yourself.”

I sigh and lean back against the pillows. “Fine, then I’ll remember by myself. Why need a therapist for that?”

“To guide you.”

“Hell, no. I don’t need guidance from a wanky old prick who’ll probably say shit like, _Are you comfortable? How are you feeling today? Let’s unearth all your childhood trauma._ That last one will mostly be about you, by the way.”

Samu smiles despite himself. “Pretty sure they’ll be more interested in your thoughts than your feelings,” he says.

I scoff. “My _thoughts?_ What will they do knowing my thoughts?”

He shrugs. “Maybe they’ll just want some proof you’re still capable of thinking.”

If I could, I would kick him in the shins right now. 

I settle for a glare. “Wow.”

Samu wears a placid smile. “Don’t test me, younger brother.”

“Only by a few minutes!”

This feels relaxing. The normalcy of the situation is relaxing. This is how we’ve always been, snapping and bickering like puppies fighting. Whenever one of us is not in peak condition, the other will compensate in his stead. I’ll be a patient only for a few more weeks, so brother will have to be around a while longer. Compensating.

Samu refills my old aluminium tiffin box with onigiri and leaves for the night. I watch him until his shadow disappears around the corner.

Then I close my eyes and wait for sleep to come. It doesn’t. Instead, my thoughts spin out of my control and return to the accident.

I didn’t remember it until a few days ago—and even then, it comes back in fragments. Like trying to piece together a painting from shards of broken glass. That is all I seem to do nowadays: Roll around in bed, dreaming of near-deaths.

The memory still stops at the point I hit my head against the steering wheel. If only I can remember what happened right after. I’d like to know what ’miracle’ saved my life that day.

I stroke my ring finger out of instinct. It’s empty. I’ve never worn a ring, there’s no dark band around my finger to show I ever wore one, so I don’t know why this instinct was born. But it calms me and I keep doing it. 

Omi-kun stops by. He looks so angry at me, it feels like the accident had been intentional on my part.

“Brash bastard,” he mutters as soon as he enters.

“Morning to you, too. You look well.”

“You don’t. Do you know what you’ve done?”

“Almost got myself killed. But death rejected me, so here I am.”

Omi-kun looks like he wants to say something more. Something he swallows back in the last moment.

“You’ve been given an extended leave from this year’s matches,” he says.

I blink, both at the abrupt subject change and the subject itself. “What? Why?”

“Why? You’re asking _why?”_

“Yes, _why._ Why are they benching me? Do they think my amnesia affected my knowledge of volleyball or something? Because I can guarantee, I’m still the best damn setter around.”

I can tell Omi-kun is scowling behind the mask. “No, you idiot,” he scolds. “They gave you leave so you can recover.”

“I won’t need a year for that.”

“You can join us in practice in a few weeks.”

“Fuck practice, I want to play in official matches!”

“You won’t have to. They have brought in a temporary substitute, we’ll make do with him.”

That makes me laugh out loud. “My _substitute._ Funny.”

I’m starting to get on his nerves. “Listen up, Miya Atsumu,” Omi-kun hisses. “Take this time off to get back your damn memories, alright? Trust me when I say you would want to remember what you’ve forgotten.”

I stare at him, wide-eyed. “Tell me,” I say.

Omi-kun stares back with unreadable eyes. “Someday, when you’re ready, I will.”

◑

They probably think it’s a good idea to keep me from volleyball right now. It’s not. It’s a terrible idea. The last thing I need at present is losing more things I care about.

I’ve already lost my car. I loved that car. Such a bright, stinking shade of yellow. May he rest in peace forever in his watery grave.

Osamu brings a lawyer the next day who talks me through insurance policies and procedures. Most of his jargon bounces off my eardrums before they can reach my brain. The little I do understand, I figure that if we can prove beyond a shadow of doubt that I, Miya Atsumu, is indeed suffering from Dissociate blah-blah-blah, then I’ll be eligible for full coverage.

“Good,” I say. “I’ll buy a car with that money. The exact model, the exact shade.”

“Please don’t buy from the same company within a year,” my lawyer says, pleasantly. “That too can be twisted into ‘negligence’ on your part at the time of accident and no responsibility of the company itself.”

“How delightful.”

When Kita-san hears I’m basically vehicle-less at the moment, he brings me his old high school bicycle.

“There.” He points out the window at the street below. “The blue one.”

I walk over with all the equipment still attached to me and gaze out. A bicycle with a blue basket. A white card has been stuck to its dynamo. _Get well soon Tsumu!_ it reads in big, bold letters.

I tear up a little. I would hug Kita-san if I could, but I’m just too full of tubes at present.

“You spoil me,” I say.

Kita-san laughs, softly.

I look at the bicycle again. It’s pretty. I decide I’ll take it for a ride once I’m released. Maybe go down to the beach. I hear the sea is beautiful this time of year.

* * *

# · 2 ·

⊱• **_They remain with us forever, like a touchstone_** •⊰

DAMN WINTER. DAMN  every season. Why do seasons exist, anyway?

I couldn’t go to the beach. And I had everything prepared, too. Blankets, picnic lunches, volleyballs. But the snow ruined everything.

I glare out the window at the falling flakes. Curse them to hell and back. My feet are tingling. Dammit, I haven’t been outdoors in so _long._

Since my release from the hospital last week, my room has been my only habitat. As if I’m an ancient tree that has taken roots here. I don’t even like my room. It feels too big for one person.

I asked Samu where my roommate is. He told me I never had a roommate. Well, that’s that, I guess. But I can’t shake the feeling that my room has suddenly doubled in size.

All I’ve seen is snow and more snow for the past week. Piling up on roads, slipping into boots. A perpetually growing white carpet, unwanted and unnecessary.

I wish I lived in a desert. Maybe then—

No, scratch that. Then I’d have to deal with sand and that’s worse.

What is the perfect place? Plains are good. _The tropics._ I’ll move to Southeast Asia or Central Africa and settle there. No snow, no sand. Good for the soul. Hey, even coasts can work. I’ll just set up camp near the beach and never come back.

I don’t know how long I stand watching the snow fall outside my window.

Fuck this.

I walk out and take my bicycle for a ride.

Black jacket, black boots, blue scarf, white earmuffs. Gloves with fox prints. Empty fingers, no rings. I make a roster of what I’m wearing so I don’t forget. Doctors said that was a possibility: I may have trouble forming new memories or retaining the memories I make for a while. Kind of scary if you think about it. So I don’t think about it.

Nobody is out in this weather. You need to be crazy to be out in this weather. Or desperate. I happen to be a bit of both right now.

I don’t paddle. The roads are too dangerous for that. Even as I walk with the blue bicycle keeping me company, I make sure to avoid every freezing puddle in my way. Call it a residual fear from the accident, but … Well, there’s no harm in being careful, is there?

I halt in my path.

Wow. That’s something Omi-kun would say. The accident seems to have changed me more than I thought.

The next puddle I come across, I stomp right into it, splashing my boots in the process. I have no time for caution. I never did.

When I pay attention to my surroundings again, I see him.

A boy. He looks around my age, but is much shorter. Wearing a black jacket that is two sizes too large on him. Same white earmuffs as mine. A Hello Kitty cap is pulled low over his head. Bright tendrils of red (auburn? orange?) hair peeks from under it. 

He walks beside me. Not _by_ me, but _with_ me. _How long has he been here?_

“Hello,” I say.

He doesn’t reply. He looks at the power lines, then at the sky. “The stars are beautiful tonight,” he says. “If there is a power outage, you’ll be able to see the entire galaxy from here.”

I follow his gaze and frown. Not a star in sight. Only thick clouds puking snow all over Tokyo. _Where does he see stars?_

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yes. He has called another meeting tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know, right? They must be a really strong team if we have to meet so many times to discuss strategies.”

 _What’s he going on about?_ I peer to see if he has a bluetooth fixed in his ear. Nope, nothing.

I was right. Nobody out in this weather can be sane.

I come to a halt. “Listen,” I begin. “If you need help going home or—”

But the boy just keeps walking. Still talking, still throwing an occasional glance at the sky. He doesn’t even notice I’ve stopped. Come to think of it, he probably hasn’t noticed me at all. Why else would he be carrying on a different conversation while I was speaking to him?

At one point, the boy turns to where I was before and laughs at the empty space.

_Creepy._

My phone buzzes and I start. Flip it out and read the text.

S A M U : _where r u? Bokuto is here to c u._

Bokuto. Right. He hasn’t been around to see me since the accident. I wondered why at first, then I forgot all about him.

I type: _omw,_ and send the text.

When I look up, the boy is gone. I’m once again standing alone, with a blue bicycle on a white road, beneath a starless sky.

◑

Bo-kun has been crying. Round, puffy eyes that he doesn’t even try to hide.

He takes me in a bone-crushing hug as soon as he sees me. Samu tries to stop him, but there’s no stopping Bokuto once he sets his mind to something. And right now, that ‘something’ is grounding my newly-mended ribs to dust.

I try to push him away after a few seconds, but he just clings tighter and sobs. _Oh, now he’s crying._

“Thank God,” he says. “Thank God.”

“There, there, Bo-kun,” I say. “I didn’t know you loved me so much.”

“That’s okay,” he says between sobs. “You were never very bright, Tsum-Tsum.”

Well, that was uncalled for. I wiggle out of his arms and slap him on the back. “I’m fine! Y’all need to stop babying me, all of you.”

“You don’t get to say that right after being in an accident,” Samu points out. “That too on Christmas, not even a month ago.”

“Babying me won’t protect me from accidents. That’s why they’re _accidents—_ can happen at any time, anywhere.”

Samu kicks the door shut and sits on my bed. Bokuto follows, leaving only a hair’s width of space for me. I slide in somehow and flop down on the mattress beside them. I put pressure on my wrists and flinch. The clot still hasn’t healed. It’s like a birthmark, bright and glaring.

“How was the hospital food?” Bokuto asks.

“Yuck.”

“Sorry, dude.”

“Whatever. It was only for a few weeks.”

“Yeah.” He pauses, mulling over how to approach the subject. “So. Like. What exactly have you forgotten?”

“Hell if I know. How would I know what I’ve forgotten if I’ve forgotten it?”

“Right, right. So … Hm. We can do something. A game. I’ll say a sentence. And you’ll say ‘I remember’ or ‘I don’t remember.’ That way, we can figure out what you’ve forgotten.”

“That sounds less like a game and more like an interrogation, Bo-kun.”

“Just play along, okay?”

“Whatever.”

Bokuto sits up and gathers himself into a ball of determination and excitement. He stares at me intensely as if daring me to lie.

“Akaashi loves _Onigiri Miya_ and gets heavy discounts for being a regular.”

“I remember. I would need to be struck by lightning to forget about his obsession.”

“Olympic tryouts are being held in February of this year.”

“I don’t remember. The last I heard, they had been postponed for the global pandemic.”

“Good! There you go. Then you must remember you promised to treat me on New Year’s eve.”

I shake my head. “I don’t remember.”

“Lie!”

“Nope. I totally do not remember that happening.”

Bo-kun scowls at me, then breaks into a little smile. “Well, now you know,” he says. “You owe me a treat.”

I realise this game will always put me at a disadvantage. I won’t win either way.

“You played against Schweiden Adler.”

“I remember.”

“Your favourite song is the Kermit theme song.”

“I remember _Rainbow Connection,_ dude, what even?” I frown. “But I have no idea how _you_ know it’s my favourite song.”

Bokuto studies me for a long moment. Samu sits on the other end of the bed with his back to us.

“Hinata told me, Tsum-Tsum.”

I blink. _Hinata. This name …_

“And how did this Hinata person know what my favourite song is?” I ask.

Nobody answers. Bokuto takes a long breath and rises to his feet. Then he leaves the room, banging the door shut behind him.

I stare at the closed door. “Did I say something wrong?”

“You set for Hinata, Tsumu,” brother says, following out the door. “You played on the same team.”

He goes to find Bokuto, leaving me alone in my too-large room. I stay on the bed and stare at the dull, white ceiling.

The name is doing cartwheels in my head. _Hinata. HinataHinataHinataHinata._

It … It doesn’t bring back any memories. I don’t know if it’s supposed to, but the more I try to gnaw at the name, the more it slips from my grasp. Like trying to remember a dream after you’ve already woken up.

My finger jerks, once. A shiver runs down my spine.

The name does bring back certain … feelings. Feelings that make my heart race and hurt at the same time. Too many emotions mixed together to name each of them separately—I’ll only name the one that drowns all else:

_Yearning._

* * *

# · 3 ·

⊱• **_Everything that’s lovely is but a brief, dreamy, kind delight_** •⊰

FIRST SESSION WITH my therapist. I was looking forward to it, if I’m being honest. I want to see what all the hype is about, to know if words can truly help someone heal or if all they do is conceal.

The man enters the room and takes the seat opposite to mine. (Good lord, he’s _old._ A prominent _geezer.)_ A balding head with tufts of grey sprouting all over his scalp. His eyes are lines. Straight, dark lines that somehow feel more watchful than anyone I’ve met before.

He wears a nondescript shirt and trousers. Over them rests a garish red jacket. I wince at the bright colour.

“My name is Nekomata Yasufumi,” the old man says with a good-natured smile. “I’ll be helping you in the coming months to regain your memories. Are you comfortable?”

 _There it is._ “No,” I tell him.

His smile grows wider. “Why not?”

“I don’t need this and still I’m being forced to attend this. It’s abuse.”

“Who’s forcing you?”

“Samu, that git.”

“Is he the one who contacted me to make an appointment?”

“The one and only.”

“Does he often arrange your life without your permission?”

“I mean, he does, but—”

I break off and stare at the man. He has been jotting down everything I say; the first page of his little notepad is already filled.

_The hell?_

“This is why I didn’t want to come here,” I mutter.

His sharp ears catch that and he shakes with subdued laughter. “But you didn’t refuse firmly, did you? If I’m not mistaken, this was optional. Does your brother often talk you into doing things?”

 _It’s the other way around, really._ I don’t say a word. Just slump on the linoleum couch and fume.

“Let’s start again,” he says. “Are you comfortable?”

“No.”

The man grins at the notepad. “Is it the couch?”

“No.”

“Your head?”

“No.”

“The scars? I hear they will stay awhile.”

“No.”

“Then the dreams, maybe?”

I don’t answer—and realise a split second later that in itself is an answer.

“So.” The old therapist pushes away the notepad. “You have been having dreams.”

I neither admit nor deny the accusation.

“Are they about the incident?”

I shake my head. “Stop calling it that, will you? All the pretentious weirdos _love_ to call it that for some reason. Just say ‘accident.’ Words don’t bite.”

The man chortles. “Oh, but they do!”

He brandishes a brand new notepad from the drawer and tosses it at me. A clone of the one he’s using to dissect me. Does he have a collection of these lying around in his office?

“If ever you remember something, write them down in that,” he tells me. “Anything you want, anything worth remembering.”

“Anything I want is not the same as anything worth remembering,” I say. “I want a lot of things not worth remembering and remember a lot of things I don’t want.”

The man only gives another laugh. _Dammit, does nothing faze him?_

“If that’s the case,” he says, “then try and write down those few exceptions that are both. Things you want today and will want to remember tomorrow.”

Bogus session. I don’t need this bullshit. I come home and doodle dicks all over the yellow pages of the notepad as payback.

But the man—Nekomata-sensei—was not wrong about the dreams. I have been having all kinds of dreams and they are no longer just about the accident.

Initially I thought they were memories, perhaps. But all I see is fragments of images that make no sense: a half-eaten sun dangling in air; falling stars landing on a finger; a fox glaring at me in the dark; a tulip pressing into my nose and making me sneeze (this one always wakes me up); a golden room filled with smoke; standing in a house by the beach as the sea floods the rooms. There are many more, but they bleed into each other so fast, I can never remember all of them when I wake up.

The only thing I know for certain I’ve forgotten: Someone called Hinata Shouyou. One of my teammates. Which is weird, to say the least. I remember everyone else on my team and everything about them. Why did my mind suddenly decide to erase _his_ existence from my life?

I have resisted the urge to google his name. For all I know, it will fail to help me. When hearing his name did nothing, what will reading about him do?

I fold the clothes I strew all over the floor just so I have something to do. Then I sit on the bed and stare at the room.

I’m bored. I don’t think I’ve been bored in a long while. What did I do before to kill time? Play volleyball, that’s what.

I search for the volleyball and find it hiding under my bed. I bring it out and look out the window. Sunset is still a while away. I’ll come back before that.

I text Samu on my way out: _going out to practice. dnd._

◑

I find the little field behind the children’s park. I usually play here by myself when nobody else is free. I don’t know if anyone else is free, I didn’t ask. I want to be alone right now. That’s weird, considering I’m supposed to be bored.

A large cherry tree stands on the border of the park and the field, between the swingset and tall grass. Its branches are black and bare this time of year, but in a few months they’ll shower the place with white blossoms.

The sun shines behind the tree. It blinds me for a moment.

I aim for the highest branch and throw the ball. It reaches exactly where I want it to before dropping and rolling away.

I find it sitting in the grass and bring it back. Then I toss again.

And again.

And again.

Each time it touches air and falls to earth. Each time I crawl in grass to search for it.

 _This isn’t enough._ A setter needs a spiker. What am I doing, throwing around volleyballs by myself behind a children’s park at late noon?

I look around. Not a single kid to be found. All at school or home. I’m the only giant kid bored enough to come and play here at this hour of day.

I take aim and toss again.

The sun grows brighter. Then it explodes into a burst of light and blinds me.

_A figure—a shadow—flies into my line of sight and slams the ball I tossed to the polished floor. Applause erupts around me. A perfect spike ending a perfect set._

_The figure leans back and punches the air with their fist. The floodlights that blinded me before, now border the person with a silver glow and erase their edges. When the light dims and cheers fade, they glance in my direction and point at me with a proud finger. Acknowledging me, claiming me. The prettiest laughter echoes in my ears …_

I fall to the ground. Feel the dirt beneath my bare knees and palms. _Bare knees?_ Oh, right, not bare—I’m wearing jeans. But just a little while ago, I wasn’t.

In the memory I was in my MSBY Black Jackal’s uniform. Black jersey, gold stripes, black shorts. So was the person who scored a point and laughed.

_Who was that? I couldn’t really see his face, but … Is he the one I’ve forgotten? Was that Hinata Shouyou?_

I don’t know. My head has started throbbing. I never could think too hard about any particular thing at a long stretch; now it physically _hurts_ if I try too hard to follow a train of thought.

_Dammit._

I rise to my feet and stagger out of the park. Then remember I’ve left the volleyball back in the field and return to fetch it.

I search for five minutes before admitting I may have lost it. How could I lose it? There’s nobody here but me.

Or maybe not.

Black sneakers sway from the topmost branch. Striped socks, flushed knees, black shorts. White T-shirt materialises with a corduroy jacket over it.

He looks down at me and I glimpse the bright orange head that was previously covered with a Hello Kitty cap.

“You disappeared!” he scolds.

I blink at the boy, confused. “I did?”

He ignores me just like last time. “Where’s the Pocky?” he asks.

“I … You want to eat Pocky? I can buy—”

“Not the chocolate flavour! The honey ones you only get in spring, I want those!”

I glance at the bare branches of the cherry tree the boy is sitting on. “Spring is still far away,” I tell him.

He doesn’t listen to me. He never seems to listen to me. Not then, not now.

He shrugs at something only he can hear, then chucks the volleyball at me. I run forward to catch it.

“Anyway, set for me,” he says, and leaps from the tree to land gracefully on his feet.

I look at the ball between my hands, then at his expectant face. His hair resembles red soil in the evening sun.

I sigh and spin the ball. _I can’t keep up with him. I, Miya Atsumu, can’t keep up with him._

Breaking my personal setter’s code, I give the boy an impossible set. With all my strength, I aim for the highest branch of the cherry tree and throw the ball.

He runs, drops all his weight on his feet, and jumps.

I feel my breath catch and my eyes grow wide.

_He’s flying._

The boy slams the ball back to earth, matching every drop of his strength to mine. It flies over the grass and lands in a distant puddle in the field.

His feet touch ground. He smiles at the vanished volleyball.

“Whoa, that felt _good.”_ He looks towards me. “Right, Atsumu-san?”

The sun sets behind him. It borders him in a golden glow and erases his edges. He doesn’t seem real. Maybe he’s not. Maybe I dreamt him up to keep my loneliness at bay.

“Who are you?” I say. “How do you know my name?”

He smiles, then laughs—and it’s the prettiest sound I’ve heard.

_You. It’s you._

I move to approach him, then hesitate. My steps falter and I call out to him.

“Hi-Hinata?”

The boy doesn’t reply. _Dammit, why doesn’t he notice me?_ He looks right through me and smiles. “You’re cute in this light.” He tilts his head like a curious dog. “And from this angle.”

A heat spreads over my neck; I try to speak over it. “That’s a very specific situation. What about other times?”

The boy continues his own conversation. At this rate this will become a game where he says whatever he wants and I try to find the right thing to say.

“What about me?” he asks. “You know, if someone compliments you, you should return it.”

I gaze at him. Sparkling brown eyes; a permanent, lingering smile; hair that puts the sun to shame.

I go to say something like, “You’re cute, too,” or “Well, you’re not bad.” But a different set of words fall from my lips and sprinkles me with déjà vu:

“Beautiful. You are beautiful in every light.”

_I’ve said these words before._

The boy blinks. Then a lovely blush blossoms over his face and he looks away.

_Shit. He heard me._

Before I can say another word, he sprints into the field. The black sneakers raze down the grass where he steps, splashing into the puddle where the ball floats.

The boy picks it up and glances at me over his shoulder. Where I still stand at the edge of the field.

Then he runs towards me, volleyball clutched in arms, laughing with abandon; it echoes as the sun sets below the horizon; I take a step back and brace myself for the impact. _He will collide with me. I will catch him._

One last leap—I stretch my hands—the sun goes down—and he vanishes.

I stand alone with arms wide open. The sky has turned violet. A cold breeze bends the bare branches of the cherry tree. No track made by running shoes remains in the field. And a lone, drenched volleyball sits at my feet.

* * *

# · 4 ·

⊱• **_Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic_** •⊰

I BUY BEER on my way back. Hug the pack to my chest and place the volleyball on top of it. Walk with a purposeful gait as if I have someplace to be. But I don’t. I don’t have anywhere to be and no one is waiting for me.

The sky is clear tonight. Hinata was right: If there’s a power outage, you’ll be able to see the galaxy from here. Light pollution is a very real thing and should not be underestimated.

_I’m lonely._

I wasn’t this lonely when I left. Volleyball practice was supposed to take away the loneliness, not multiply it by ten.

I open the door, turn on the light, and say, “I’m home.”

Silence greets me. The empty room seethes in that silence.

I let the volleyball roll down the beer pack and slam to the floor. Kick the door shut with a boot; kick away the boots themselves. Place the pack on the bedside desk. Then crawl under the covers and stay there.

It’s too warm. I should take off my coat, remove my scarf and earmuffs. But that’s too much work for my muscles right now. If I had a choice, I’d stay here forever and turn to stone.

 _Fuck, my head hurts._ A drum being struck too hard. I close my eyes, but find no relief. The pain lingers like a memory. My wrist, my fingers, my face. At some point tears spill and flow without end.

There are good days and there are bad days. Today is a bad day. Tonight is a bad night.

If you ask me why I’m crying, I won’t be able to tell you. The reasons for sorrow are varied. And I’m too dumb to figure out why exactly I’m having a breakdown right now.

 _What triggered it?_ Usually if I manage to trace to the origin and find what caused me to crumble, I can calm down.

 _Was it him?_ Did seeing him act as a trigger? Was he even real? Maybe I imagined him. Was imagining him enough to trigger a full-blown breakdown?

I take deep breaths and count to ten. Then to twenty. My counting slowly picks up pace; before long, I’m racing through the digits as my heart rate shoots up.

_Shit, I can’t calm down._

I curl deeper into myself. A whimper escapes me.

_Should I call Samu? I should call him. I need help. But he’s at the shop right now, he might be busy … Dammit, I don’t want to need help!_

It’s safe under the covers. When I would have a particularly bad day at school where everyone would turn against me, I would come home and wrap myself in blankets—they would protect me from the world. When Samu sat me down and told me nobody liked me at school, it was them that shielded me. All through my life, this has been my armour: layers of wool and fabric.

Through the gaps in the threads I see the fluorescent bulb flicker. Once, then twice.

On the third flicker, it dies with a dull _whoop._

Darkness. A power outage. Not like it makes any difference to me. I had my eyes mostly closed. In fact, it’s better this way. Now nobody can see the real, ruined me.

That’s when I hear it. A voice piercing the silence. Someone humming in the dark.

I grow still and listen. _That melody …_

“Someday we’ll find that rainbow connection,” he sings. “The lovers, the dreamers, and me!”

 _No, go away. Go away, I don’t want you to see me like this._ The voice sounds far away. As if floating across from the other side of the sea. It echoes in my ears, in my mind, in my heart. I occupy the least space possible and will him to disappear—will myself to disappear. But nothing happens: Hinata keeps singing my favourite song as I shatter into still smaller pieces.

“Who said that every wish would be heard and answered … hm-hm-hm … hmmm … hm-hm. Somebody thought of that and someone believed it—look what it’s done so far … ”

_Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up—_

“Someday we’ll find that—!”

“Shut up, for fuck’s sake, shut up!”

Silence. I don’t dare move. This peace feels fragile. Any moment he’ll start singing again, any moment now …

My breath hitches and sticks in my throat. I gasp and inhale deep, but air doesn’t reach my lungs.

_Am I dying? Is this how I go? Suffocating in a large, empty room?_

“Atsumu-san?”

I freeze. The voice is here. Right beside me. _So close._

“Atsumu, please. Look at me.”

I hesitate for a second. Then open my eyes and glance to my left.

There is nobody in the dark bed beside me, nothing but emptiness under the covers. The power has still not returned.

“Where do I look?” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “Where are you?”

There is no reply for a long moment. When the voice finally responds, it’s in my ears and sends shivers down my spine.

 _“I am everywhere,”_ he whispers back.

I breathe. Inhale-exhale. Inhale-exhale.

_I’m everywhere, Atsumu-san._

That’s actually not helpful, if you think about it. Not helpful at all.

I grit my teeth against the receding pain in my head. “I can’t see you, dammit,” I tell him. “You’re just making this worse!”

The voice grows quiet. I expect him to answer after another long moment, but he doesn’t.

I throw away the covers and look around the room. Moonlight shines on everything. My trophies, my uniform, my volleyball. Bed, desk, me. It bleaches us white.

Nothing has changed in the past minute. It’s still dark, still quiet. The beer pack is sweating on the desk. My boots lie abandoned on the floor, grass stuck to their soles. The door is firmly locked, the window clasped tight. The panes reflect nothing but the sky outside. If you look up right now, you can see the galaxy from here.

Nothing has changed in the past minute. Except for one small crucial detail.

_I can breathe again._

  
  


◑

  
  


Now that I look back on it, some of the dreams I’ve been having over the last few weeks make a little sense.

One dream in particular freaked me out when I first had it. This was before I saw or remembered Hinata Shouyou—he was still a stranger to me. All that stayed with me from the dream was this: _I met a person whose head was on fire._

I didn’t know who it was then; I was so sure it was nobody I knew. Maybe it was someone I glimpsed on the streets. Our subconscious mind works in weird ways: You see a face in the crowd and it gets lodged in your brain—you dream of the face and you think you must know the person but you don’t and you never will—you are strangers and will forever remain so.

In that dream, he—then a stranger, now Hinata—was wearing my white shirt in bed. It was two sizes too large on him and looked baggy, but he made it work. God, he made it work so well …

He was asleep. And he appeared so peaceful and—and _lovely—_ that I couldn’t help it, I guess. I kissed him on the forehead. Just a light kiss, nothing he would feel or remember. But he woke up, anyway.

“Atsumu-san?”

I blinked at the closeness. I’m not used to being so close to anyone. “Did I wake you?”

He giggled. “Yeah, you did.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“Don’t be. That felt good.”

I stammered a little. “W-What felt good?”

He came close until we were eye to eye. Then he stretched to reach my temple and kissed me there. Not a light, cautious kiss like the one I gave him. He kissed me like he meant me to remember it.

“This,” he said.

Dreams are nothing but our mind’s way of coming to terms with the world. They don’t make sense because reality doesn’t make sense. But dreams, for all the good they do, are not real and will never be.

Still.

Can I tell you something I’ll never tell anyone?

For just a moment, I wished it was real.

  
◑

The stars outside my window are pulling off incredible acrobatic feats. My boots are dancing tap by themselves on the floor. All my trophies and accolades were fighting a while back but now they have arrived at some sort of truce. The bed has shrunk in size to fit just me. Any more space and it feels too large, too empty.

Yes, I’m drunk. I finished the entire pack by myself and now I wait patiently on the chair by the window to pass out in my own puke. But I have neither puked nor have I passed out.

The tears have dried on my face. Now I’m sweating. The heater in my room was running when I left at noon. I must have switched it on at some point and forgotten all about it. God, I’m a mess. Disgusting.

The galaxy is visible outside. The Milky Way agrees with me: _You are a disgusting piece of shit, Miya Atsumu._

Ah, well, what can you do? We are all a bit disgusting at the end of the day.

I go over to the window and lean outside. Arch my back over the sill and stare at the sky. Stretch my hand and reach for the stars. _I’m coming for you,_ I think. _One of you landed in my hands, do you remember?_

My head has stopped hurting but my chest hasn’t. Is this heartbreak? Damn, they weren’t exaggerating, were they? It _hurts._ The ache is real. Like I’m playing the fifth continuous set in a match and barely holding on.

I stagger to the balcony and take big gulps of air. Swallow the cursed invisible substance that’s meant to keep me alive. It barely works. I’m surrounded by air and I can’t breathe. What a dysfunctional animal.

I look over the dark city. Tokyo doesn’t look like Tokyo without lights. Maybe no city does. Lights make up such a huge part of a place.

As I watch, the power returns. All at once the city becomes a blinding carnival. I wince at the sudden glare. The galaxy disappears from view.

The bulb glows in my room. I come inside and slide the glass door shut. Crawl over to my phone and dial a random number.

“Hello?”

Wow. I called a real number at first go.

“What’s the opposite of infinity?” I say.

It’s quiet on the other end. Then—

“Atsumu-san?”

Words, those treacherous inventions, escape me completely.

I cough to clear my throat. “H-Hinata? Hinata Shouyou?”

Another long pause. “This is his sister, Hinata Natsu.”

Oh, right. I didn’t notice it’s a girl’s voice.

“Oh. Hey. Um.” I swallow. _What do I say? Why did I call?_ Wait, no. I didn’t call Hinata Shouyou’s number on purpose. It was instinct. _Why does his sister have his phone?_

“I … I don’t really know why I called,” I tell her. “But if your brother—”

She cuts me off. _“Shouyou-kun,”_ she corrects me. “That’s what you called him.”

 _Oh._ Yes, I did. No memories return at hearing the name, but the sound feels _right_ when I test it.

“Shouyou-kun,” I say. “When you see Shouyou-kun, could you please tell him I … I would like to meet him? Just once? … If he wants?” I add as an afterthought.

Hinata Natsu’s voice is swallowed by static when she replies. “I … good … current … ”

I strain my ears to listen to her. _I’m too drunk to have this serious conversation, dammit._ “Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

Natsu-kun takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she repeats. “Osamu-san told us about your current condition. Maybe wait for your memories to come back before meeting him? Just a suggestion.”

It’s not a suggestion. Her voice tells me this is exactly what I have to do if I ever plan on seeing Shouyou in this lifetime. Leave it to brother to meddle in other people’s business.

I try one last time. “Is he … Is he angry with me?”

This time, Natsu sighs. “It’s brother,” she says. “He can’t stay angry with anyone, much less with you, Atsumu-san.”

_That’s good. Progress._

I nod before remembering she can’t see me. We finish with the formalities and disconnect the call.

 _Ha._ I feel like I jumped over a big hurdle in my path. Maybe I did. Look at me being all productive.

The call has sobered me up. I think. I hope. I pull up my gallery and scroll down. I should’ve done this long ago. But I’m dumb so I’m doing this now.

_Shouyou-kun. Who are you to me?_

Most of his pictures in my gallery are solo clicks: he leans over the terrace, his back to the camera; it’s sunset; his head looks small and sad; cell sites blink red in the distance, their glare captured and imprisoned forever. Several pictures of him standing in a field of tulips. Another is a blurred photo of him laughing while reaching for the camera. Still another shows him sleeping. A streak of drool runs down the corner of his mouth—that’s what the camera focused on.

My gallery is full of him. Full of us.

_Fucking hell. I was smitten, wasn’t I?_

One of the pictures catches my eye. Shouyou is in bed, glistening with sweat. A blanket is strewn carelessly over him. Sunlight paints him golden. He gazes at the camera with tired eyes and a soft smile. A hand rests on his forehead, orange hair plastered to skin. _Reeling in the afterglow of sex._

But where my gaze lingers is the gold chain shining against his bare chest. It’s thin, almost invisible. It wraps loosely around his throat and ends in a large pendant of a half-eaten sun.

_Another piece falls in place._

It’s three in the morning when I call my brother. Samu picks up on the fourth ring.

“Are you alright?” His voice is alert. “What is it?”

“Hey, Samu?” I say. “Was I ever in love?”

Silence on the other end of the line. When he speaks, his voice is quiet.

“Why do you ask, Tsumu?”

I try to swallow back the tears, but they fall anyway.

“Because I feel like I was. But I don’t remember anymore.”

* * *

# · 5 ·

⊱• **_The world forgetting, by the world forgot_** •⊰

BEACH TRIP. Finally.

Samu offered to join, then Kita-san called and joined in; Omi-kun was coming too and that was that. I would’ve liked to come alone but whatever. As long as I get to leave the house.

Omi-omi hates the sea. And, by extension, the beach. Pretty sure he’s scowling darkly as he watches me walk on the sands. He has been watching me a lot these days. Always on high alert, as if I’ll disappear right before his eyes if he looks away for even an instant. I want to assure him I won’t, that my memories are slowly coming back and I _must_ stay until I meet Shouyou-kun again. Once that happens, everything I’ve lost will return to me as the sea returns everything when the tide turns.

The tide has still not turned today. The sea is a silver line in the distance. You need to cross a field of tall grass to arrive on the beach where the sand stretches for miles on either side. I walk barefoot, feeling the grains bite my skin. A colony of gulls flies across the blue sky. The sun splinters into a thousand fragments on the waves.

_I miss you. Do you miss me, too?_

A picture sits in my gallery of Shouyou-kun. In the same outfit he was wearing the day I saw him in the field behind the park: white T-shirt and black shorts. Instead of the corduroy jacket, he wears the black one I saw him in the first time he walked with me on a winter night. His hair glows under the sunbeams, his smile is dazzling.

He stands in the sea with the waves swallowing his feet. When he notices the camera, he turns and smiles—and the moment is frozen forever in my phone.

I look towards the sea as water laps at my feet. _I miss you, Shouyou. Why did you have to leave?_

The sea brings back memories. Not the ones I’ve forgotten, but the ones I thought I forgot. Old childhood days of spending hours on the sand with my family, playing volleyball on the beach with the elementary team, playing with my Inarizaki teammates when I entered high school. Maybe it’s not just a camera that can capture moments. Places hold memories, too.

I glance over my shoulder at where the rest of them sit. They understand I need to be alone right now. _Good._ To express my eternal gratitude, I collect seashells as I walk. Most of them broken, all of them beautiful.

The wounds have started to heal. The clot around my wrist has faded to a pale purple. The scars on my face have thinned to cracks in skin. I still feel like a newly-hatched bird learning to fly on its own. It’s not a great feeling. It kind of sucks, to be honest.

We have brought our bicycles. Samu was pushing to drive me, but I refused. I don’t really want to be around cars for a while.

We paddled down the roads and streets, between high-rises and glass buildings; somewhen we shed that scene behind for hills. I rode by myself, as did Omi-kun. Kita-san wanted to bring his own bicycle, but when he saw Samu was riding alone, he quietly ditched that plan and sat behind my brother without a word.

They led our little group. Kita-san sat with his arms brimming with our lunches, keeping everything in balance, and maintaining a perfect posture while at it. Sometimes I think he is inhuman. Or, rather, the _ideal_ human. Functional adults are a scary breed.

The snow melted long ago, but the roads still felt slippery to me. I’m aware it’s just in my head; that didn’t stop me from avoiding every puddle, every depression in my path. I was being so careful, that at one point I noticed I’d fallen far behind the group and they were waiting for me at the summit.

I hastily paddled my way to the top. My face was burning; I’m surprised it didn’t evaporate.

We parked our bicycles, dropped our bags, and played a match once we reached the beach. No rules, just pure competition. I first played with Omi on my team, then Samu. We won the first time, but lost the second round.

Brother has brought along onigiri from his shop. We’ll have that for lunch. The only reason I might hesitate before sacrificing him to the Old Gods.

I stop and look around. Sea breeze hits me, making my white shirt flutter. A boat swims in the distance, a dot from land. The hills break off in sheer cliffs and disappear in sand. Dangerous-looking boulders line their base. The world is a default desktop wallpaper.

_It’s too beautiful a day to keep hating myself._

When I turn my head, I see him. This time he doesn’t take me by surprise. I have been waiting to see him for a while now.

Shouyou-kun sits alone on the sand, facing the sea with his eyes closed. White T-shirt, black shorts, black jacket—just as in the picture. His sneakers rest beside him, his arms hug himself around the knees.

He doesn’t see or hear me approach. But that too I’ve come to expect.

I sit by him and face the sea. Say the thing I’ve managed to piece together over the last few weeks.

“This is a memory, isn’t it?” I glance at him. “You are a memory.”

Shouyou doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even move a muscle.

I sigh and lay my head on the knees. “Thought so. We must have visited the beach once upon a time, you and I. I don’t remember when or what we did, or if—”

“Do you like me, Atsumu-san?”

The whispering sea muffles the words. I hear them alright, but I don’t reply. It’s useless, he won’t hear me if I do. The cruel thing about memories is their finality.

Shouyou-kun opens his eyes and looks towards me. I look back.

His eyes are such a warm shade of brown, it hurts to see the light dim in them. What did the old me say? How did the past me respond? I don’t know, I don’t remember, but it can’t have been anything good if it made him look this way.

He sighs and turns away. “That’s sad,” he says. “Because I think I like you.”

_Did I turn him down? I rejected him, didn’t I?_ I knew I was dumb, but goodness, this is a new low even for me.

“It meant nothing to you, did it?” he continues. “The car, the nights, the trips? All these days, all the memories we made?”

The devastating part is the lack of anger in his voice. The lack of blame. No accusation, no judgment. Only genuine questions.

I answer even though it’s futile. “They mean everything to me now, Shouyou.”

As always, he doesn’t hear me. He gets up and runs into the sea until it reaches his waist. Turns around and yells something at me that I don’t catch. Splashes about, kicks the water, all without causing a single ripple. The world grows still as my vision narrows down to him—playing with foam, slicing through waves.

I take my phone and loop a cover of _Rainbow Connection_ at low volume. Watch the waves advance and recede to the music.

_Shouyou, I see you. I know you’re a figment of my imagination, a memory long gone. But you’re here with me now, so if I call your name, will you answer?_

I take a deep breath and yell out:

“Shouyou-kun! Can you hear me?”

He keeps splashing in the water. Maybe he can’t hear me over the waves.

Somewhen the memory has ceased to be a memory and become an afterimage that my mind keeps replaying. Shouyou plays with the sea on loop, his movements repeating for eternity. I rise and follow after him. Wade right in, then orbit him as a planet around a star.

That stops him in his path.

“What are you doing?” Shouyou asks with a curious smile.

_You’re not real. But you are all I have now._

“Making amends,” I say.

“What for?”

“Because I was an idiot and you deserved better than the shit I gave you.”

He frowns. “Don’t say that. I liked the time I spent with you.”

“You’re just saying that because that’s what I want to hear, shut up.”

He shuts up. I realise suddenly that my imagination doesn’t do him justice at all. I’ll never be able to capture the real Hinata Shouyou, and I’ll never be satisfied until I meet him again.

But I don’t know how long that will be. I don’t even know where he is right now.

So I glide up to my memory of him and kiss him. He kisses me back the way I imagine he would—without shame and regret.

When I break the kiss, Shouyou is fading at the edges. Sunlight passes right through him and makes him sparkle.

“Shouyou-kun? I like you.”

He smiles wide and rests his forehead against mine.

“Too late, Atsumu-san.”

  
  


◑

  
  


When I return to shore, Samu is scowling at me. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Dripping water all over the sand, I laugh.

We eat our lunch, then watch the sunset. We don’t wait for the sun to disappear, but leave right when it touches the horizon.

On our way back, we stop at a shrine. The four of us stand in a line and pray. Mine is a simple wish: _Free the part of me locked from myself._

Kita-san talks us into getting the fortune cards they have at the entrance. All of us receive a “Great Blessing!”

Fake, all of it.

I don’t feel blessed. I did feel blessed in the beginning when the doctors told me I was suffering from nothing more than a temporary bout of amnesia. People lose entire limbs in accidents; they _die,_ for god’s sake. I only lost some memories.

I repeat the motto of my old school like a mantra. _Who needs memories? Who needs memories? Who needs memories?_

This is meant to be a rhetorical question, but now it feels more like a genuine question. It’s a privilege to be able to live in the present. Most of us are stuck either in the past or the future. I used to have that privilege too, but somewhere down the line, I lost it.

So if you ask me now: “Who needs memories anyway, Tsumu?”

I will say: “I do.”

* * *

# · 6 ·

⊱• **_And all I lov’d, I lov’d alone_** •⊰

THE ONLY TWO THINGS I write after months in the yellow notepad Nekomata-sensei gave me are two phrases: _Rainbow Connection_ and _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind._

The first is my favourite song, of course. I have become kind of obsessed with it, if I’m being honest. When it’s not playing in my ears, it plays in my mind. In his voice, in his rhythm. Shouyou-kun sings along tunelessly alongside Kermit’s own rough voice. It’s not a good combination, but it works. God, it works so well …

The second phrase is from a movie. I think. I’m not sure. There is a movie with that phrase, that I’m sure. I dreamt about it and when I woke up and thought back on it, I realised it was another memory. 

In the dream/memory, I was in a room I don’t recognise. It looked like someone’s house. I could hear rain outside, pattering incessantly on a nearby pond, sneaking in through the blinds on windows. Over that noise, I heard someone walk up the stairs to the room and peer in.

_Shouyou._

His arms were filled with boxes of cheesecakes. “Ready, Atsumu-san?”

I nodded. He snuggled in close to me and pressed play on the laptop. I noticed the title of the movie: _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind._

Then the memory dissolved into a recurring dream I’ve been having for months now: Standing inside an unknown little house by the beach as the sea flows into the rooms. When I woke up, my pillow was soaked with tears.

Here’s the thing that’s been bugging me: If I and Shouyou-kun were as close as my memories lead me to believe, then why isn’t he here? We must’ve had a fallout at some point, but … where _is_ he? Like, where does he live? Why haven’t I seen him around even once? Doesn’t he live in Tokyo? He should if he’s a teammate. Maybe he’s on leave too and has gone back home. Where is his home?

_Clearly not with you,_ my mind helpfully delivers. I shut it down.

I consider calling Natsu-kun and asking her, but change my mind at the last moment. If I ask for his whereabouts, she might think I’m trying to get in touch with Shouyou-kun. (Which I am, but she doesn’t need to know that.)

So I settle for Omi-Omi, instead. I can ask him anything without hesitation. Surely he’ll know where Hinata Shouyou is.

Sometimes I think I and Shouyou-kun were not all that close. Maybe I just wished we were, but he left me before that could happen. So now I dream and dream of it, hoping my dreams can fulfill what reality could not. How do you tell the difference between dreams and memories, anyway?

Disregarding all my prejudices, I decide to ask Nekomata-sensei because I need answers and I’ve run out of people who can answer me.

He ponders over the question and shakes his head. “No,” he tells me. “I’m afraid there is no way to tell the difference between dreams and memories. The past, no matter how much it means to us, is only as real as a dream.”

He taps on the yellow notepad. “Is _Rainbow Connection_ a part of your past? Does it mean something to you?”

I sigh. “It’s my favourite song. But I’ve fallen in love with it all over again, so I wrote down its name to remember it.”

“I see. And does writing it down help? Have you been forgetting recent events?”

“Nope. But I’ve already lost something, and I don’t want history to repeat itself.”

The man pounces on that like a cat. “Which particular history? What have you lost?”

“So far? A car and a friend.”

“Do they have something to do with this second phrase you’ve written down?”

“I don’t know. I only know it’s from a movie.”

Nekomata-sensei smiles and tosses me a book from the small shelf behind him. “That might answer some of your questions,” he says.

“I never said I have questions.”

“Oh, but you never say how you feel, do you?”

“Wrong. I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

Now I’m just lying through my teeth because I don’t want to back down. It pisses me off how much he has come to know me despite my best efforts to keep him at arm’s length. I don’t really say how I feel, but I do speak a lot and my words are usually brash, so people assume I’m a straightforward guy. I’m not. I’m a coward.

I bring the book home and stash it under my pillow. This way I can forget it exists. I didn’t pass out of school just to do homework again.

But … well. He did say there might be answers in the book. I don’t know how he knows what questions I have, but … ah, fuck it. Curiosity is a crime and I’m a criminal. It gets the better of me and I end up reading the book, anyway.

Poetry. Boring. Bounces right off my head. I can’t properly understand children’s books at times and the guy gave me poems to read. Maybe he doesn’t know me as well as I thought, after all.

But four lines stand out to me. I don’t know what they mean, just that they sound good in my head and hold my answer.

_How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!_  
_The world forgetting, by the world forgot._  
_Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!_  
_Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d;_

What does it mean? Maybe I’ll google it. They must mean something even though I don’t understand it. The rest of it makes me yawn, but these few lines stay with me.

_A spotless mind._

I relate to that. My mind has let slip a few memories that might have been spots. Since the accident, I have been strangely at peace. There are good days and there are bad days, but the good vastly outnumber the bad.

And yet, it feels as if this peace has come at a great cost. I am happy because I am blameless. What did I have to forget in the process?

Clearly Shouyou-kun is one of them. But is there something else? Something more?

I will never admit it to anyone, but … it hurts so much when I see him in my dreams.

There’s no reason for the hurt, either. Like, I’ll dream we are walking down the street together and he’ll point at something and laugh. I’ll laugh with him. And that hurts. It’s a good dream and still manages to hurt more than a nightmare. How? Why?

I decide to watch the movie by myself. _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_ has good reviews. It’s also something I watched with him together at some point in the distant past. I forgot the movie along with Shouyou-kun, but perhaps rewatching it will shuffle some of my memories.

I buy another beer pack and decide to finish it by the end of the movie. That turns out to be a terrible idea.

The story is … confusing. At least for the first half an hour. Then it starts to make sense, but I start getting drunk around that point, so all that sense flies right past my head.

But I do figure out something: The story is told in reverse. You start at the end and slowly find your way back to the beginning.

As the movie nears its final minutes, the tears start flowing. Not due to the movie or its plot or whatever. I’m crying because I suddenly remember.

_He snuggles in close and presses play on the laptop. The movie starts. Shouyou is immediately lost in it, focusing hard on following what’s happening on screen. I’m not. I’m lost in him. I open a box of cheesecake and feed him. Shouyou chews it, distracted. He doesn’t feel my gaze, doesn’t realise how much I adore him. How will he? I turned him down. How are we so close even after that? I don’t know, but I won’t complain. This is home for me and I want it to last …_

The movie is almost finished. The man on screen finds himself standing in his last memory. In an unknown little house on the beach.

_Ah, so this is what I’ve been dreaming of._

He memorises her as the sea floods the rooms. His shoes disappear in water and they pretend they had a goodbye.

_Dammit._ I shouldn’t have watched the movie alone. I shouldn’t have been drinking while watching the movie.

I fumble for my phone and dial his number. Nobody picks up and it goes to voicemail. It’s 3 a.m. by the clock.

“Shouyou?” I say. “I’m drunk. I resolved to remember everything, then went and got drunk. I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

Static on the other end while my voice gets recorded.

“I’ve been crying for so long, I don’t even remember the reason. A little more and I’ll flood the room. Like in the movie, I’ll stand in a house of saltwater. I hate this. I hate myself. I’ve been trying to live with your memories, Shouyou-kun, but memories are not real, they’re not enough, they’re _not enough.”_

I swallow against my dry throat. The laptop flops to the bed beside me. “I miss you,” I whisper. “I don’t care if you miss me back or if you’ll even return to me, but I miss you so much it hurts, okay? Nobody tells me where you are. Where _are_ you? I swear, I’ll find you, Hinata Shouyou, if it’s the last thing I do. Even if you don’t want to be found.”

The voicemail beeps to warn me I only have another minute left. There is a time limit on my remorse.

“Are you angry at me, Shouyou?” I ask. “Natsu-kun says you aren’t, but why else will you be avoiding me? Please don’t avoid me, I … I don’t remember what I did to make you angry at me, Shouyou.”

I laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “Hell, what am I supposed to do now, huh? I need you here to tell me _why_ you’re not here, isn’t that funny?”

The beep sounds again. Last ten seconds. I race through my unworthy apology.

“But Shouyou-kun,” I say. “If you ever forgive me for whatever I’ve done—and I do a lot of shit, I know, I’m sorry, I try to be better but I fail often, I’m sorry—know that I’m waiting here for you. I don’t remember all of you, yet. But the little I do, it tells me I—”

The voicemail cuts off. The phone is dead in my hands. I stare at my empty room and let the phone fall from my limp fingers.

_I would’ve loved to make more memories with you. Why did you have to leave?_

The night is almost over. When the sun brings forth a new day, my memories start coming back, vivid and devastating.

* * *

# · 7 ·

⊱• **_Where things come back_** •⊰

NEKOMATA-SENSEI, usually as helpful as a decorated houseplant, says that I should try to think ‘linearly’. If too many memories come rushing at once, I must take a step back. Figure out which puzzle piece goes in first—then the next, and the one after. He tells me that’s why humans invented time: To measure the distance between moments.

Unfortunately, minds don’t care about what’s past, present, or future. All of it blends into a muddy broth that can slip through your fingers if you’re not careful enough.

When my memories start coming back, I’m making breakfast. I drain the rinsed rice with a sieve and see it.

Tokyo has vanished beyond my balcony. The skyline, the horizon, all of it— _poof!_ like the magician’s rabbit.

In its place I see the beach. The field of tall grass that one has to cross to get to the sands; the sea glimmers silver in the distance; gulls fly across a dazzling sunny day; people walk along the beach …

  
  


◑

  
  


_The first time we meet is at the sea. I was right. The sea does bring back memories._

_On the night they declare the MSBY Black Jackals’ lineup, I’m sleeping. I’m bone-deep exhausted after a rigorous volleyball session and just climb into my bed and fall asleep. I don’t know anything about who my teammates are until the next morning when we’re all invited to the beach for a little party._

_I walk down the field, the grass snapping at my knees. It’s a windy day. I wrap my large black jacket tight around myself._

_Someone is playing some shitty pop song on speakers. The wind spreads it around the beach like a virus. Good thing it’s on low volume or I would’ve tossed the speakers into the sea. Being a professional setter has its advantages._

_I find Omi-kun amongst the strangers and stay by his side. He doesn’t like that one bit, because people keep coming up to meet me, and that means he has to socialise too._

_At one point he ditches me and disappears. Must have found a hidden shade where he can hide until the crowd leaves._

_Bokuto finds me then and slaps me on the back as if we’re old friends. (We’re not. This is the first time we’re meeting in years.)_

_“Hey, hey, hey, Tsum-Tsum!” Another slap on the back. “How are you?”_

_“Fine. Don’t—” I stop his hand before he can slap me again. “—hit me.”_

_He obeys but only after pulling me close with an arm. He drags me to introduce my teammates to me._

_I meet our potential captain, Meian Shuugo. He … looks like me with different hair. Black, slicked back locks with a confident smile. Dark, observant eyes. He shakes my hand and says he looks forward to watching me set: He has heard I’m the best setter around. And with that one sentence, I realise why they’re considering him for captainship. He knows what to say to hold us together._

_Bokuto pulls me over to meet our libero and one of the four wing spikers. Inunaki Shion and Oliver Barnes contrast each other. One is light-haired with an average build, the other is dark-haired and … tall. Really tall. I have to crane my neck to look Barnes in the eye._

_But Bo-kun, for all the lack of brains he exhibits, knows whom he must save for the last._

_He walks me over to a rather short person in a white T-shirt and black shorts. A vivid shade of fiery hair._

_“Oy!” Bokuto calls._

_The boy turns at the voice and sees us. A wide smile breaks free._

_I freeze. Shit, he’s with us?_

_“Atsumu-san, we meet again,” he says. “I don’t think you remember, but—”_

_“Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno middle blocker.” I’m trying to contain my own smile and failing spectacularly. “Number 10, the strongest decoy.”_

_His smile falters a little. “You remember me?”_

_I laugh. “Of course! How can I forget you, Hinata?”_

_That takes him aback. Funny how he completely expected me to not remember him. Although I admit, it’s been a few years since we last met. Still, it would take something enormous to make me forget the one who led his team to defeat us on the second day of Nationals._

_He says something that I don’t catch. I strain my ears to hear over the sea. “Sorry?”_

_“Call me Shouyou,” he yells. “We are on the same team now.”_

_“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. It’s Shouyou-kun from today, then.”_

_Shouyou smiles at the new name and offers his hand. I take it in mine and shake it. Before we can let go, Bokuto pulls me down the beach. Shouyou gets pulled along. We meet our coach and trainer, then walk over to where they have arranged a barbecue for us._

_At some point, I notice we are still holding hands. My other arm is clasped in Bo-kun’s grip._

_I glance at Shouyou, then at our hands. He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t pull away._

_I feel like squeezing his hand once. Just because. But I don’t._

_We stay that way until the food arrives._

The rice cooker whistles and shatters the memory. I stand alone in my large room, the ladle limp in my hand. Tokyo shines under the morning sun outside my balcony.

It is said that the past is but a dream. There is no real difference between what is a memory and what is only your imagination.

In that case.

_I glance at Shouyou, then at our hands. He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t pull away._

_I feel like squeezing his hand once. Just because._

_So I do. When no one is looking, I squeeze his fingers against mine._

_A few seconds later, Shouyou squeezes back._

I smile and bring the rice to the table. Bring out miso soup from last night and lay out the breakfast. Sit alone and say: “Thanks for the food.”

My quiet voice echoes in the emptiness.

  
  


◑

  
  


I take my bicycle out for a ride. Cut across the crowded Tokyo roads, wait at the red stops, ride around the park, glimpse the field where I practise, then head for my room.

When I reach the road I travelled all those months ago on a winter night, I see him. A phantom in the distance. Wearing the same white T-shirt over trousers.

_Winter will be here soon. I know since I’ve lived in Tokyo my whole life and can tell exactly when the weather will turn on you. But Shouyou doesn’t know that. He still wears his lightest summer clothes. The only piece of ‘warm’ clothing on him is the Hello Kitty cap pulled low over his head. Now he’s shivering beside me even as he tries to hide it._

_It’s a few months after our first meeting on the beach. We just finished practice. Shouyou-kun was too hungry, so I offered to prepare something for him. I don’t tell him I can’t really cook much beyond the basic necessities. My brother usually feeds me. But I can’t seem to stop myself from jumping at the first opportunity of helping Shouyou. I like being there for him._

_When his teeth audibly chatter, I stop and take off my earmuffs and jacket. “Put these on.”_

_He glances at them and steps back. “What? No!”_

_“Take ’em. At this rate, you’ll turn into an icicle before we reach home.”_

_He hesitates for a few seconds, but the cold wins in the end. Shouyou grabs my jacket and puts it on. The earmuffs drop over his orange head._

_“Brrr, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he mutters. His hands disappear into my jacket pockets._

_My own hands ball into fists in my jeans. Thank goodness, I had a turtleneck under the jacket. “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “My place is only a bit farther away.”_

_“Good,” he says. “I didn’t realise winter arrives so suddenly in Tokyo.” He gives a soft laugh. “In Miyagi, you get a month’s warning, at least.”_

_“Everything is kind of rushed in cities, even the weather.” I look up and catch the streetlights wink into life along the road. “There, see?”_

_Shouyou follows my gaze and laughs. Then his gaze wanders to the sky._

_“The stars are beautiful tonight,” he says. “If there is a power outage, you’ll be able to see the entire galaxy from here.”_

_“Yeah, you’re right,” I say. “But if there’s a power outage tonight, all our plans will be cancelled tomorrow. Didn’t the coach ask us to stay back after practice?”_

_“Yes. He has called another meeting tomorrow.”_

_I throw my head back and heave a frustrated sigh. “Just how strong is the other team?”_

_Shouyou grins. “I know, right? They must be a really strong team if we have to meet so many times to discuss strategies.”_

_I shake my head, then run to a lamppost and spin around it once. Keep going round and round until my head clears._

_“You’ll get dizzy,” Shouyou warns._

_“I already am. This clears the dizziness.”_

_“This clears your head? You’re crazy!”_

_“Took you long enough to realise, Shouyou-kun.”_

_He laughs, and it’s the prettiest sound I’ve heard._

The laughter still echoes in my ears when I feel the tap on my shoulder. An old lady with a crooked back, dressed in a lovely blue dress, is studying my face with concern.

“Are you alright, boy?” she croaks. “You’re crying!”

She says that as if it’s the most surprising thing she has witnessed all day. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just remembered something, that’s all.”

  
  


◑

  
  


At night, I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. I can’t close my eyes. I know he waits for me on the other side of sleep. That is something I look forward to, trust me, I do, but at the same time …

_Your memories hurt, Shouyou. You’re not meant to be just a memory._

But now that the past has started collecting at my feet once again, staying awake is no longer a solution. When I turn in bed, I find him sleeping beside me. Peaceful and relaxed. Drooling.

_I still can’t believe he’s here. Beside me. Okay, maybe he’s sleeping six feet apart, but that doesn’t change the fact he agreed to this. When Shouyou-kun said he’s too tired to leave, it felt natural to ask him to stay the night._

_“Alright,” he said immediately, with a huge smile._

_I was surprised he was so enthusiastic about it. More than me, really._

_I gave him one of my shirts. An old, white one that’s a little tight on me now. I hoped it would fit him right, but it almost fell down his shoulders when he put it on. It looked large and baggy on him as if he was drowning in fabric. Shouyou didn’t complain. He only made a pleased sound and said, “Ah, soft!”_

_When I made the bed, he crawled into the covers and fell asleep under a minute._

_I stared at him for a long moment as I came to terms with the situation. My room is still new. I don’t even have a couch to sleep on._

_Fuck his sleep. I pushed him awake. “I’ll have to sleep too, you know,” I say._

_Shouyou-kun looked at the amount of space left on the bed. Not much._

_So he rolled over to a side and patted the space beside him. I got in under the covers. Before I could turn off the lights, he was asleep once again, snoring softly._

_He really was tired, huh. I arrange the blanket properly and gaze at him. At some point the moon climbs up the sky outside the window and bathes him in light._

_I see the streak of drool running down his chin and place a hand over my mouth to muffle my laugh. Then take my phone from the bedside desk and click a picture. Keep the phone back and gaze at him again._

_I admit, Shouyou is cute. But I don’t understand him at all. He is as mysterious to me as the workings of the universe is to scientists. I understand him as a setter, but not as a person. Or a friend. And that is strange, because Shouyou is supposed to be someone who wears his heart on his sleeve. Just like me. Maybe the most secretive ones are those whom everyone assumes to be the most open._

_He’s asleep. And he’s here. Who knows when we’ll be this way again?_

_I slide over to him quietly and kiss him on the forehead. Just a light kiss, nothing he’ll feel or remember. But he wakes up, anyway._

_“Atsumu-san?” he calls through the haze of sleep._

_I blink at the closeness. I didn’t realise how close we were. I’m not used to being so close to anyone._

_“Did I wake you?” I ask._

_He giggles. The sound tickles the dark room. “Yeah, you did.”_

_“Ah, sorry.”_

_“Don’t be. That felt good.”_

_I look at him for a long moment. He doesn’t feel my gaze in the dark. I’m pretty sure he’s looking at me too, but I don’t feel his gaze, either._

_I stammer a little when I speak. “W-What felt good?”_

_Shouyou takes his time to move up to me. We are eye to eye and I can see the sparkle in his. He stretches to my forehead and kisses me. Holds my face in his palms to keep me steady. Not a light, cautious kiss. He kisses me like he wants me to remember it._

_“This,” he whispers._

_Then he burrows into my chest and pulls the blanket over our heads._

Horns in the distance. Tokyo is somehow louder at night. I get out of bed and walk onto the balcony. Look over the city and realise how alone it is. Well, at least we are together in our loneliness. That’s a relief.

I close my eyes and think back to the memory. I still don’t remember if I ever got to say goodbye to Shouyou-kun. Maybe we never had a goodbye.

In that case.

_He burrows into my chest and pulls the blanket over our heads._

_I open my eyes, expecting darkness, but find moonlight instead. It flows through the gaps in fabric and turns us silver._

_“Shouyou,” I say. “Shouyou, this is important, look at me.”_

_He does. He opens his eyes and stares at me, alert._

_“I’ll forget you someday, you hear me? Not by choice, but I’ll forget you.”_

_He blinks, confused. Then a small smile appears on his lips._

_“That’s alright,” he says. “We forget things all the time.”_

_No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Dammit, why is he saying what I would say?_

_“Not you,” I tell him. “I never want to forget you. What do I do, Shouyou?”_

_His smile ebbs away. “How would I know, Atsumu-san?” he says, softly. “I’m only a memory in your head.”_

_The words are true and they hurt all the more for it. I pull him close and bury my head in his shoulder. He’s muscular, but he feels frail in my arms._

_“Maybe we should stop thinking about the past and the future, then,” I say. “And just be.”_

_“This is a dream, isn’t it?” he mumbles into my chest. “This conversation never happened, you just wish it did.”_

_I sigh. “Yes.”_

_“So you might forget this too once you wake up.”_

_“I might.”_

_Shouyou laughs. “There really is no way to remember me, is there?”_

_“I’ll find a way,” I promise._

_“Good,” he says. “But don’t forget me again.”_

_“I won’t.”_

* * *

# · 8 ·

⊱• **_Of all the sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these:  
‘It might have been’ _** •⊰

THE NEXT DAY I finally decide enough is enough and get inside the car. Not in the driver’s seat or even the front seat. I climb onto the backseat and sit still.

They don’t tell you about the fear. The remnants of trauma that stick around after an accident. It’s been over half a year and my hands still shake at the thought of taking the steering wheel. I don’t even remember the details of the accident, yet it manages to affect me so much. Maybe the fear never really goes away, but lingers forever as another sharp-edged memory.

The garage is just the right size for Samu’s car. It’s a strange shade of forgettable blue, unlike the pompous yellow that my car was. On the other side of the house is _Onigiri Miya,_ my brother’s highly successful shop. I can hear the customers from here, the bell that jingles every time someone opens the door. Not much else enters my ears—my senses are slowly dulling, as it happens whenever I face something stronger than myself. In this case: fear of cars.

When I asked Samu if I could sit in his car, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before tossing the keys to me. I noticed the hesitation and smiled. It feels good to have someone concerned about you. 

The smile fell away as soon as I entered the car. That’s how I’ve been sitting for the past half an hour, rigid and alone.

This sucks. Cars suck. My fear of them sucks.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat. Take deep breaths and try to forget my surroundings. It’s easy now since the car isn’t moving, but what happens when I’m driving?

I realise suddenly I won’t be driving anytime soon. The fear is too strong. It might paralyse me in the middle of a crowded road.

Ridiculous. I didn’t work so hard to get my license just to sit and shiver in the backseat. I open my eyes to glare at the walls of the garage beyond the closed glass window—and blink.

No walls. No garage. Our house has disappeared as have the sounds of brother’s shop in the distance.

Instead, I see the city skyline shimmering in the horizon late at night. The passing streetlights spot the glass window; when I breathe, it fogs over them.

_I look away from Tokyo to the boy beside me. Shouyou sits on the other end of the seat, his bright head dull in the darkness of the car. On our way back from a practice match, I think. A song plays on the radio. Nobody pays attention to it. Shouyou isn’t sleeping, simply staring at the city lights running in a blur past the car. When he feels my gaze, he glances at me and gives a tired little smile._

_I can’t help but laugh. How amazing is it that he always has a smile for me? Very few in this world have someone who’s happy to see them no matter what. I’m lucky._

_“What is it, Atsumu-san?” he asks, still smiling, if a bit confused._

_I don’t know why I do what I do next. When it comes to Shouyou-kun, I seem to do a lot of unreasonable things._

_I shake my head and place a hand on his nape. Shouyou shivers at the touch. The smile disappears, his eyes darken._

_I give him a massage. Roll my palms over his shoulders, run them up and down his back, push my fingers against his spine. Shouyou stretches and sighs._

_My hands travel to his head. The song is over and only static flows through the speakers. I pull his hair lightly until he lets out a soft moan and presses his face into the window. His breaths fog the glass._

_I pull him to me._

_Shouyou finds my chest and disappears inside my jacket. We stay that way for a few minutes. Just breathing. Feeling each other’s warmth. If the driver glances at the rearview mirror, he’ll see us. I realise I couldn’t care less. I don’t think Shouyou does, either._

_It feels wonderful until I pull his ear and he places a hand on my thigh._

_My own hands freeze. He notices it. Hinata Shouyou knows the effect he has on me and turns a blind eye to it on a regular basis._

_Like now. Shouyou lets his hand wander. Up my thighs, up my stomach, over my chest. His hand reaches my heart and there it rests._

_I’m sure he can feel it thunder against my ribs. I’m sure that’s why he’s wearing an impish grin._

_“Are you okay, Atsumu-san?” Shouyou whispers._

_“You know damn well I’m not.”_

_He looks up at me, his face in shadows. Sometimes a streetlight blazes past the window and lights up his face with radiance._

_I see his lips move in that light. They mouth the three dangerous words: I like you._

_I stare at him for a long moment. I don’t answer his confession. I don’t say a word. I only retrieve my arms and jacket and shift away from him._

A teardrop kisses the window and trickles down the glass. The garage wall stands grey and solid on the other side. The memory keeps replaying in my mind like a broken record. The regret is deep enough to cut bone.

I’m thought to be an honest man. A straightforward man. Yet those three words falling from his lips in a darkened car freaked me out. I was scared, _so_ scared. Fear is no excuse, I know—I know that better than anyone, trust me. But I was scared all the same.

What kind of monster throws away a confession from the person he likes?

Me. I do. Damn me.

This needs a rewrite. It sorely needs a makeover. I need another chance to make it right, dammit.

But Shouyou is gone now. He won’t even pick up my calls. What do I do?

If he is nothing but a memory now, why not rewrite the memory? As a consolation for the weak?

_I see his lips move in that light. They mouth the three dangerous words: I like you._

_I stare at him for a long moment. Then I kiss those lips and steal all his breath away so he can’t confess again._

_“I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you,” I tell him. “But I’m also a scared little man, so I won’t have the guts to love you openly, at least not for a while. Will you be okay with that?”_

_Shouyou considers, then shakes his head. “No. That’s not enough.”_

_“Then what do I do?”_

_“Love me with all you’ve got,” he says, simply. “And I’ll love you with all I’ve got. Let love chase the fear away. If we still fail, we can always leave.”_

_Yes, we can always leave. But I don’t want to, not this time._

_“Do you want to leave, Shouyou-kun?”_

_In response, he disappears into my jacket again and sighs._

_“I want to stay here forever … ”_

“… Tsum-Tsum. Atsumu!”

I start at the voice. Blink the tears away and focus on the present. Bokuto stands on the other side of the car window, banging on the glass. He gestures with his hand to roll down the window.

I do. “Hey,” I say.

“‘Hey’?” Bo-kun looks at me, incredulous. “I called you sixteen times! Why aren’t you picking up? Where’s your phone? Are—” He breaks off and studies my face. “Are you crying?”

I look down. _Where’s my phone? Where’s my phone? There._ I find it fallen under the seat near my shoes. Sixteen missed calls.

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t—”

“Come out of the car,” Bokuto says.

“No, I—”

“Come out. Now.”

I do. Bokuto can be scary when he’s determined.

He peers into the car, then looks at me. “What were you doing?”

“Getting used to cars,” I say.

“Why were you crying?”

I give a weak smile and joke: “There was something in my eye.”

Bokuto hits me on the arm, then pulls me into a hug. “You’re crazy, you know that?” he mutters. “If you’re sad, just be sad. You don’t have to hide.”

I don’t tell him I have a lot to hide for. I don’t tell him what I have done, what I could’ve done but didn’t. I don’t say anything at all.

I just hug him back tight and let myself cry.

  
  


◑

_We haven’t been easy with each other since that night in the car. I don’t blame Shouyou. I can be a dick. But we still have to play with each other on the same team and holding grudges is harmful in the long run._

_So as we walk down the crowded Tokyo street, I nudge him with an arm._

_Shouyou-kun looks at me, puzzled._

_I nudge him again without looking his way._

_Shouyou catches my arm and clasps it tight in his grip. “What are you doing?”_

_I look at him, all innocence. “What am I doing?”_

_“You were poking me.”_

_“Oh, was I?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Did I make you angry?”_

_“For this?” Shouyou laughs. “No, you didn’t.”_

_“And for the other night?”_

_Shouyou stops laughing. He stays quiet for a few seconds, then heaves a resigned sigh. “I can’t stay angry with people for long, Atsumu-san. Much less with you.”_

_I free my arm from his grip and pull him close. We walk together down the pavement that way as cars honk past us on the road._

_Suddenly Shouyou points at something ahead of us and laughs. “Atsumu-san, look!”_

_A huge balloon in the shape of a fox’s head is flying across the sky. A bright orange in colour, it looks dazzling in the setting sun. Must be a company flying their mascot as some publicity stunt. People on the street stop and point at it. They click pictures, and that makes me reach for my phone._

_Before I can do that, Shouyou finds my hand and takes it in his. Not on purpose. He is lost in watching the balloon and needs something to hold on to—I just happen to be here, in the right place at the right time._

_I smile at the balloon as it flies away. The ice has broken. A second chance is here._

  
  


◑

  
  


_The tulip festival is the largest of its kind in Hokkaido. It lasts for a month from early May to early June. I bring Shouyou-kun to the park where it’s held because I told him he looks like one._

_“A tulip?” he asked._

_“Yes. With the hair and the smile, you look like a tulip.”_

_He glanced into the rearview mirror and flashed a curious smile. “I always thought sunflowers suited me more.”_

_“No. Have you seen tulips dance in the wind? You look exactly like one when you speak, flailing your arms about.”_

_“I haven’t seen tulips dance in the wind,” he said._

_So we took a flight to Hokkaido to see tulips dance in the wind. Now we stand in the large park full of tulips in full bloom. Red, orange, pink, and yellow. Colours as far as the eye can see. The sun is high in the blue sky; the flowers face it, swaying in the breeze._

_Shouyou-kun takes one look at the field and breaks into a run. A straight sprint down the paths between the rows of tulips. I follow his track, walking slowly behind him. He glances over his shoulder often to make sure I’m there. I wave every time he does that. ‘I’m here.’_

_Shouyou stops suddenly and raises a hand. “Stop right there, Atsumu-san!”_

_I freeze at his urgent tone._

_He flips out his phone and clicks a picture._

_I blink._

_Shouyou laughs. “You looked pretty, sorry.”_

_I look down at my old, faded jacket and jeans. He thought I was pretty?_

_“Stand amongst the flowers,” I tell him. “I’ll take your picture, too.”_

_The impish grin is back. “Why, Atsumu-san? Do I look pretty?”_

_I don’t reply, but he can tell I’m blushing._

_Shouyou walks into the flowers, until he is knee-deep in them. “Is this okay?” he asks._

_I see him through the camera. A light pink shirt and jeans. Yellow tulips around him. Tangerine hair flying in every direction._

_Shouyou squints against the sunlight to look at me. “Go on, Atsumu-san,” he prods._

_Not yet. I walk into the field. When nobody is looking, I pluck a small yellow bloom and slip it over his ear. There. Perfect._

_Shouyou stares at me like he can’t believe what I just did. “You’ll be fined,” he says, amazed. “Arrested.”_

_“Not a crime unless caught, Shouyou-kun.”_

_I walk back out and take his picture. Shouyou with a makeshift flower ornament standing in a field of tulips._

_Then I click another. And another._

_Shouyou giggles. “Stop, that’s enough!”_

_I don’t listen. Just keep clicking. Snap! Snap! Snap!_

_I take about twenty pictures before he chases after me, laughing. I flee in the other direction, managing to take one last photo: A blurred picture of him laughing as he reaches for the camera._

_When he catches me (and he does it pretty easily with his speed), he whips the tulip from his ear and shoves it into my nose. Its style shoots into my nostril and tickles me harshly. I give a tremendous sneeze. The yellow petals scatter to the ground._

_Shouyou laughs so long and so hard, that he drops on the soil, all out of breath._

_My nose is still tingling. “Brat,” I scold._

_Shouyou calms down and watches me rub the pollen off my nose. Then he gets to his feet, yanks my head down to his height, and kisses me on the mouth._

_Unexpected. Dizzying. Tempting._

_He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t let go of me. He looks into my eyes, sincere and determined. For just a moment, I’m afraid: This is it. He has cornered me now. But then he speaks, and it’s not at all what I expect to hear._

_“Come to the beach with me,” he says._

_“The beach?” I ask, still a bit out of breath._

_“Yes. The sea is beautiful this time of year.”_

_“Okay. When?”_

_“After the upcoming match.”_

_“Done.”_

_Shouyou kisses me again, a phantom touch near my lips. “Thank you.”_

  
  


◑

  
  


_Final point of the match. Our scores are already into the 30s. Neither side is letting go, nobody ready to let up at this stage._

_Someone on the other team slams the ball on our side of the court. It’s too near the net. Omi-kun goes to save it, but he’s not fast enough. Bo-kun runs for it, but he’s on the other side of court. I try to save it, but I’m too far as well. Shouyou is a blur as he runs for the ball, but too slow, we’re too slow …_

_His foot saves the ball. Shouyou manages to bounce it high into the air and the rally continues. We still get to stay on court._

_I remember Shouyou used the same attack against Inarizaki during the Nationals. It can’t really be called an ‘attack’, to be honest. It’s instinct for him: Don’t let the ball drop. I was on the opposite team, then. It was thrilling to be his opponent, but to be his teammate? To set for him? Nothing less than amazing._

_When the ball falls into my hands, I aim it as high as the floodlights in court. The lights blind me, white and burning. But they’re nothing compared to the burning inside me. We have to win, we refuse to lose._

_The set might be too high, but Shouyou-kun … Fly for me just this once._

_He does. He’s only a shadow when he flies into my line of sight. With a magnificent leap, he completes that seemingly impossible set and slams the ball to the polished floor. Applause erupts around me. A perfect spike ending a perfect set. The match is over._

_Shouyou leans back and punches the air with his fist. The floodlights that blinded me before, now frame him with a silver glow and erase his edges. He basks in the cheer and the lights but when they fade, he looks towards me. Points at me with a proud finger. Acknowledging me, claiming me._

_I open my arms for him. Shouyou freezes—for an instant. Then he runs into them and hugs me back tight. The black-and-gold jersey of MSBY Black Jackals sticks to him with sweat. His laughter ripples through me and it’s the prettiest feeling in the world._

_It lasts for a second. Then Bo-kun is on top of us, crushing us in his arms._

_“My stars!” he cries. “My loverboys!”_

_Loverboys, huh? Shouyou tries to slip out from our hug but I hold him firmly. Pretty soon our captain joins in as does Shion, and Shouyou can escape no more. Omi-Omi keeps his distance but he isn’t scowling and that means he’s pleased, too._

_When we finally let go, the commentators have already asked us to line up twice. We jog over to the audience, face them in a row, hold hands, and bow._

_I feel someone squeeze my fingers and glance to my side. Shouyou stands by me, staring at the ground. Sweat drips from his hair and hits the floor._

_“The beach. Tomorrow,” he says. “Don’t forget.”_

_I squeeze back his hand._

  
  


◑

  
  


_Beach trip. Finally._

_I cross the grassy field and jog to the sands where our volleyball team had their welcome party. It’s a cloudy day. No, not cloudy. Hazy. The sun is pale and faded in the sky. The sea is a grey broth. A cold wild whips across the emptiness. I wrap my black jacket tighter around myself._

_It takes me a few minutes to spot him. Usually he takes up so much space with his presence, that seeing him so quiet and separated feels unnatural. He sits alone on the sand, facing the sea with his eyes closed. White T-shirt, black shorts, black sneakers. His clothes are still too light for the weather._

_He hears me approach and opens his eyes._

_“Hey,” he says with a small smile._

_I plop down beside him and immediately take off my jacket. “Why are you so allergic to warm clothes?”_

_“I never understand it’s a cold day until I’m out of the house,” he says._

_In a single graceful motion, Shouyou-kun puts it on and settles in its warmth. Then he presses his face into the jacket and inhales._

_I feel heat rise in my neck and look away. “What are you doing?”_

_Shouyou giggles. “Smells like you,” he says._

_“Sure it does. It’s mine, remember?”_

_He shakes his head. “No. It’s mine from today.”_

_Is it now? Before I can respond, he gets to his feet and shakes off the sneakers. He runs down the beach with arms swinging and chases away the gulls nesting on the boulders._

_I watch him for a minute or two, then run after him. How can I not when he’s running from me?_

_It takes me a long while to catch him. When I finally do, it’s only because he slows down and wants to be caught._

_I hug him around the waist and lift him up. The T-shirt slips up and my hands find skin. Shouyou gazes down at me, his bright head against the dull sky. Takes my face between his hands and kisses me._

_I kiss him back—or, at least, I try. But lifting him and kissing him at the same time proves too much for me and I end up losing my balance._

_We fall on the beach, Shouyou laughing into my mouth. I feel the waves leave foam in my back._

_“Atsumu-san,” he says. “You’re crazy.”_

_There is such fondness in his voice, in his words, that I’d gladly give up my sanity to hear him say this over and over again._

_“I act crazier when I’m with you,” I say._

_“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”_

_“Dunno, to be honest.”_

_Shouyou rolls over from my chest and sits up. Hugs his knees to his chest and closes his eyes._

_“Do you like me, Atsumu-san?” he asks._

_The whispering sea muffles the words. I hear them alright, but take my time to reply. I decide to be honest with him. With myself._

_“I don’t know, Shouyou. I’ve never liked anyone this way before, I’m not sure how it’s supposed to feel.”_

_He opens his eyes and looks towards me. Eyes of such a warm brown shade—and as I look into them, I see their light dim._

_Shouyou-kun sighs and turns away. “That’s sad,” he says. “Because I think I like you.”_

_I roll away from him and gaze at the sea. “How do you know? How can you possibly know? They say you’ll just … know, but how? How can you just know something as important as this?”_

_“It meant nothing to you, did it?” Shouyou asks. “The car, the nights, the trips? All these days, all the memories we made?”_

_“Is that how you know? Do you decide your future from your past?”_

_Shouyou-kun gets up and runs into the sea until it reaches his waist. Splashes about and kicks the water. The world grows still as my vision narrows down to him—playing with foam, slicing through waves._

_He turns around and yells at me: “There’s only now, Atsumu-san! No time but now!”_

_The waves roar around him as he throws his head back and laughs at me. Still loving me even after I turned him down, pitying me for I wasn’t brave enough to love him back. The sea screams in my ears …_

_…_ _Whoosh!_

The sink is overflowing. I opened the tap a while back and forgot all about it. I quickly go over and close it. Get a mop and place it on the floor where the water dripped into a small pool.

I blink, gathering myself in the present. Back in my empty room with a balcony overlooking an empty city. No wonder the room feels too large for me. I grew used to sharing it with someone.

I remember now who it was. I now know a lot about who Hinata Shouyou is to me. I loved him. _Love_ him. Present tense. Does he love me still? Does he even remember me? He must, right? I mean, he isn’t in the same situation as I am, pawing for answers in the dark. But then again … sometimes people willingly erase memories from their minds. We forget things all the time. If he is no longer with me, can it mean he wants to forget me?

For some reason, I think of the motto again: _Who needs memories?_

Dammit. Does he think this way, too? Does he think he no longer needs the memories we made?

Damn him if he does. I refuse to miss someone who doesn’t miss me.

But I know these are just consolations for the weak at the end of the day. Just as Hinata Shouyou never stopped loving me, I, Miya Atsumu, will never stop missing him. And that is a fundamental truth, take it or leave it.

  
  


◑

  
  


_On our way back from the beach, Shouyou stops at the window of a little shop and peers at something with eyes wide as moons._

_“Whoa, pretty!” he exclaims._

_I follow his gaze and find he’s staring at a golden chain. It loops around a mannequin’s neck on the other side of the glass pane. The chain ends in a large pendant resembling a half-eaten sun._

_I glance from the neckpiece to Shouyou-kun. “You like it?” I ask him._

_Shouyou nods and takes out his wallet to buy it._

_I’m faster. I pay for it and hand over the box to him._

_“Maybe put it on for me when we reach home?” he suggests, sweetly._

_“Shouyou,” I warn._

_He laughs and pockets the box. The next day when I see him in practice, I glimpse a golden gleam under his jersey near his chest._

  
  


◑

  
  


_Shouyou-kun insists I visit his house in Miyagi prefecture during the five-day break given to our volleyball team. A five-day break in a year. They must be convinced we’re machines._

_Shouyou lives in a traditional house, complete with floor mats and sliding doors and thatching on roofs. Clouds are gathering in the sky when we step inside his house; by the time we have opened our shoes, it has started raining outside._

_I meet his sister and mother. Both welcome me warmly, but it’s Natsu-kun who keeps studying me with a huge smile on her face. At one point, when Shouyou goes to help his mother lay the table, she leans over and asks, “So? How long have you been dating?”_

_I choke on my glass of water. “E-Excuse me?”_

_“Don’t be shy. Brother told me there was someone he liked. It’s you, isn’t it? It must be, he can’t keep his eyes off you.” She laughs, softly. “You can’t, either, by the way.”_

_Both siblings have no filter. What do the Hinata-s feed their kids?_

_“We are not dating.”_

_She doesn’t believe it for a second. “Oh?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“You want me to help? Brother can be shy.”_

_Shouyou? Shy? I laugh at the thought. He has been anything but shy with me._

_“Thanks, but I think I can handle him.”_

_Natsu-kun looks doubtful. “Can you? Shouyou can be a handful, you know.”_

_I do. He is like a whirlwind that enters your life and leaves wreckage in his path. Loving him is a little like trying to bottle lightning._

_“Still,” I say. “I want to try this myself.”_

_After lunch, Shouyou-kun shows me to his room. He has me settle down on a mattress amongst pillows and plushies, readies a laptop in front, and disappears down the stairs. I sit alone in his childhood home and feel like a stranger intruding into someone’s private space. I don’t know this Shouyou. I have no memories of who he was as a child, how he came to be the way he is today. I wish I knew him when we were kids. Maybe we met each other too late, who knows?_

_Rain sounds louder in places beyond cities. I hear it patter incessantly on a nearby pond, sneak in through the blinds in the window. Over that sound, I hear footsteps walking up the stairs._

_Shouyou peers into the room, arms filled with cheesecakes. “Ready, Atsumu-san?”_

_I nod. He snuggles in close and presses play on the laptop. The movie starts. Shouyou is immediately lost in it, focusing hard on following what’s happening on screen. I’m not. I’m lost in him. I open a box of cheesecake and feed him. Shouyou chews it, distracted. He doesn’t feel my gaze, doesn’t realise how much I adore him. How will he? I turned him down. How are we so close even after that? I don’t know, but I won’t complain. This is home for me and I want it to last …_

_When the movie nears its end, Shouyou starts whimpering. It begins as a soft, surprised gasp as the sea floods the rooms on screen—then the dam breaks and he’s sobbing, gritting his teeth to stop sobbing and failing._

_I pause the movie and hug him. It doesn’t help. Shouyou just keeps crying into my chest. All I can do is to absorb the sobs wrecking his body._

_“Fuck,” he whispers, again and again. The word is shocking in his mouth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”_

_I take a handful of his black jacket—once my jacket—and clench my fists in them. Press him close to me until there’s no more space left to fill, until I’m sure he can’t breathe. But Shouyou doesn’t try to move away or break free. Quite the opposite, actually._

_He shoves me onto the pillows and kisses me, violent and desperate. I kiss him back, just as needy. We can’t get close enough so we keep trying to get closer—still closer. Searching for each other, yearning for each other—finding each other and gasping for breath. Like animals. Yes, that’s what it’s like. All traces of civility and respect wash down my mental drain._

_I want him, dammit. I don’t care about the big questions of ‘true love’ and ‘soulmates’ and all that other shit people have come up with to complicate things. I want him here and now, and didn’t Shouyou himself say there is no other time but now?_

_I press him down to the floor and sit on him. Unbutton his jeans and pull down the fly._

_Shouyou tries to take off his shirt and jacket together and gets tangled in them._

_“Help,” he mumbles._

_I don’t. I let him fumble around in his clothing as I clasp his wrists in a hand and kiss him on the neck. The chain is cold on my tongue, the half-eaten sun pricks my lips. Then down his chest—abs—navel. I pause there for a second. My eyes come into sharp focus all of a sudden and I notice the gooseflesh prickling his skin._

_I glance up at Shouyou-kun. He has frozen in his fight with the clothes, his head invisible inside them. Now he lies still beneath me, arching his back to keep me going._

_I do. I pull down his jeans to his knees and lower my mouth between his thighs._

_Before I can continue, I feel a hand in my hair. Shouyou has finally gotten rid of the clothes. He fists my hair and yanks back my head. I yell out in pain._

_He stares at me with messy hair and eyes on fire. That strange look he sometimes gets when he is so determined, there’s no room left for doubt. The window is directly behind him, shuttered and closed, still the rain drips through the blinds and trickles down his face._

_“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t like me,” he says._

_A challenge I’ll fail. A dare I can’t possibly win._

_I try to squirm away from his grip, but he keeps me there, strong and unrelenting._

_“Don’t you fucking dare, Miya Atsumu. Be brave for once.”_

_I breathe out, long and slow, and with that exhale leaves all my resistance._

_“I like you,” I tell him. “I like you so much, it scares me, okay? If this is how love feels, I don’t want to feel it. But I can’t stop feeling it, either—God knows I’ve tried.” I find my way back between his thighs and take him in my hands. “Does that answer your question, Shouyou-kun?”_

_He throws back his head and moans. “Yes … ”_

_The window flings open above our heads and showers us with rain. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles in the distance._

  
  


◑

  
  


_We ‘officially’ date for just two months. And … it’s not scary. Not at all._

_Neither of us tells our teammates, but they’re not dumb. When we start buying groceries together, start spending the nights with each other even though we don’t share rooms, call and text each other all the time even when we see each other everyday, warning bells go off in Omi-Omi’s head. I find his eyes flitting between me and Shouyou quite often. Pretty sure he’s smirking behind the mask when he does that. Shuugo comes to know next, then Shion and Oliver. And although Bokuto called us ‘loverboys’, he still comes to know last._

_“You are dating?” he squeals one fine morning in October._

_I sit up in bed and pull the covers over Shouyou sleeping beside me. “How the fuck did you enter?”_

_Bokuto reveals the spare key I gave to Samu just in case. “Happy Birthday,” he says, meekly. “I wanted to surprise you.”_

_Right. October 5. I forgot._

_Shouyou opens his eyes and yawns. “Good mo—”_

_“Morning,” we answer._

_He blinks. Then he gives a little shriek and gathers the blankets closer around him._

_Bokuto raises his hands and backs out the door. “Forget I was here,” he says. “Forget this ever happened.”_

_Shouyou retrieves his shirt from the mess of clothing on the floor and pulls it over his head. “Get back here, Bokuto-san.”_

_Bokuto peers cautiously. “Are you sure?” he asks._

_I find my shorts and wear them under the covers. “If he says you can stay, then you can stay. Get in, Bo-kun.”_

_That entire day I receive gifts. I lose track of the things by midday and just focus on the faces who give them to me. Samu, Kita-san, Omi-Omi, Akaashi. Even Suna sends me a gift and an inappropriate birthday video._

_By evening, a corner of my room is filled with gifts. I stare at them and laugh._

_“People love me!” I declare._

_Shouyou spanks me lightly. “Didn’t you know that, already?”_

_I grab onto his hand. “Where’s my gift?”_

_“Wow. Greedy, aren’t you?”_

_“I’ve waited all day. I was patient enough.”_

_Shouyou lies back on bed with arms above his head. “First, kiss me,” he orders._

_I slide over him and obey. On the mouth, on the nose, on his eyelids. His hands tousle my hair, pull at it, spread on my back and down my arms. A second later, I feel him slip something onto my finger._

_I break the kiss and stare at my hand. Then I look at Shouyou._

_He smiles. “Do you like it?”_

_I sit up and examine the ring. Fucking hell, this must have cost a fortune. A gold band with a fox’s head at its centre. Its eyes are studded with diamonds. Loud and extraordinary. So him. So me._

_When I raise my hand to study it, the diamonds catch the light from the fluorescent bulb in my room and sparkle. Like stars have fallen on my finger._

_“You’re crazy, Shouyou-kun,” I whisper._

_He laughs. “Oh, dear. If both of us are crazy, how long before we go up in smoke?”_

_I return to his lips. “Long enough.”_

_That night we have sex against the window. It’s weird and uncomfortable but also new and sexy so I go along with it. When Shouyou arches his back over the sill and finds his release, he screams, then laughs._

_“What is it?” I ask._

_He takes his time to respond between giggles. “I’m coming under the stars,” he says. He finds that extremely funny for some reason. “You’re one fine man, you know that, Tsumu?”_

_I didn’t think I was capable of blushing any more than I already am, but here we are. I lean over him and bite his ear. “Where’s your respect?”_

_Shouyou wraps his arms around me and pulls me deeper. “You lost all respect when you took your time to go out with me.”_

_I bury my face in his chest. The sun chain leaves a round impression on my chin, his sweat blends in my forehead. “I wasted so much time.”_

_“You did.”_

_“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”_

_“Never.”_

_When I finally lay him down in bed, dawn is breaking over Tokyo. Fingers of gold creep over the walls and bathe him in light, golden tendrils wrap around his neck and waist. Smoke enters through the open window and fills up the room as water in an empty bucket. No, not smoke. Fog. Mist. Winter is around the corner._

_I look down at Shouyou, halfway between sleep and awake, and realise I love him. I try to figure out how or why I came to realise that just now, but I give up after a few failed attempts. Maybe love is nothing more than finding someone to be less lonely with. And I’ve chosen to love Hinata Shouyou. As simple as that._

_I take out my phone and aim the camera at him. Shouyou looks ethereal right now. Glossy and glistening, a blanket strewn lazily over him, sunlight painting him golden. Hair like bronze strings, a half-sun on skin. When he hears me shuffle to my feet, he opens his tired eyes and gazes at me._

_“What is it, Atsumu-san?” he asks._

_“Don’t move. I want to remember you like this.”_

_He smiles and places a hand across his forehead. “Why? Do I look pretty in this light?”_

_I hide behind the screen. “You are beautiful in every light.”_

_The smile grows wider and I press the button._

_Snap!_

_Slam!_

The volleyball hits the floor and rolls away. I jog over to it, return to my position, and slam it again. 

And again.

And again.

I’m not practising. Just relieving stress. Trying to outrun the pain. Isn’t it strange how much a beautiful moment can hurt once it becomes a memory?

_The ring is gone. The ring is gone. I’ve lost his gift._

I spread my empty hands and throw the ball high. Then slam it to the floor once more.

Bo-kun arrived a while ago and distributed bags of Pocky and Pretz amongst the team. Today is November 11, the National Pocky & Pretz Day. He gets discounts from all over. He eats a lot, so food shops adore him.

He gave me the chocolate flavoured ones and said those have always been my favourite.

“I want honey,” I told him.

He blinked. “Honey? I don’t—I think that’s a season special flavour.”

“It is. It’s for spring.”

Bokuto looked out the door at the sky beyond as if confirming the season. “It’s winter, Tsum-Tsum.”

I munch on the chocolate Pocky furiously and return to practice. It’s _always_ winter. When does it end?

  
  


◑

  
  


_Today is November 11, the National Pocky & Pretz Day. Shouyou drags me to every shop, collecting boxes of them, finishing them off at superhuman speed. My arms now brim with empty Pocky and Pretz packets. _

_He twirls around on the soles of his black sneakers and spins the volleyball on a finger. His striped socks are dizzying. He shoves his hands into the corduroy jacket he bought on a sale and laughs._

_“I’ve eaten them all,” he announces, proudly. “I’m a Pocky-Pretz expert!”_

_“Shouyou-kun, my wallet is almost empty.”_

_“So is mine, Atsumu-san. And we still have ten more flavours to try.”_

_I shake my head. “One. Choose one. We buy, then go home.”_

_Shouyou falls quiet. Deep in thought, contemplating which flavour to choose. Knowing him, he’s probably wondering if the other flavours will feel bad if he doesn’t choose them._

_“Honey,” he says, suddenly._

_I frown. “That wasn’t on your list, was it?”_

_“No. It’s a spring-only flavour, but today is a special day, so we might get it. I can’t wait till spring.”_

_Impatient brat. I pull him by the hand and place him under the cherry tree at the edge of the park and the field._

_“Stay here. I’ll see if I can find it.”_

_Shouyou smacks a kiss on my lips and turns away, volleyball in hands._

_I look in every shop on the street. Then the next street, and the one after. I walk for blocks, looking for honey-flavoured Pocky, but they are just not to be found. “Three more months,” the shopkeepers tell me. We just need three more months before we can have it._

_Shouyou wants it now, dammit. Three months is a long time, alright? But when it’s not the right time for something, what else can you do but wait?_

_I buy a large pack of chocolate Pocky and return dejected to the park. Shouyou is sitting on the topmost branch, his legs dangling on either side. His knees are flushed from practice. He looks down at me and his hair shimmers in the setting sun._

_“You disappeared!” he scolds._

_“I had to!” I shout back._

_“Where’s the Pocky?”_

_I wave the box with gloomy eyes._

_“Not the chocolate flavour!” he cries. “The honey ones you only get in spring, I want those!”_

_“Three months, Shouyou-kun,” I tell him. “You have to wait for spring to eat those, there’s no other way.”_

_He sulks for a moment, then shrugs and chucks the volleyball at me. I catch it smoothly between my palms._

_“Anyway, set for me,” he says, and leaps from the tree to land gracefully on his feet._

_I do. I aim for the highest branch of the cherry tree and throw the ball._

_Shouyou runs, drops all his weight on his feet, and jumps._

_I remember thinking, Look at him. He’s flying. It’s indeed thrilling to set for him. Like chasing a wild bird._

_He slams the ball back to earth, matching every drop of his strength to mine. It flies over the grass and lands in a distant puddle in the field._

_“Whoa, that felt good.” He looks towards me. “Right, Atsumu-san?”_

_“It did,” I agree. “Next time I’ll aim even higher, Shouyou-kun. Keep up, okay?”_

_He smiles at that, then breaks into a laugh. His gaze lingers on the ring on my finger. “You’re cute in this light,” he observes. Tilts his head like a curious dog. “And from this angle.”_

_I turn away to hide my blush and smirk. “I know.”_

_“What about me?” he asks. “You know, if someone compliments you, you should return it.”_

_“You’re cute in this light, too,” I tell him. Tilt my head more than he had. “And from this angle.”_

_Shouyou roars, offended. He tries to tackle me down to the ground, and when that fails, tickles me until my knees buckle. I don’t go down easy, though. I pull him right along beside me and tickle him all over until his white T-shirt is no longer white but brown and muddy._

_He glances at the park to see if there is anyone who can see us. There isn’t. This park is all but abandoned in name._

_He wraps his arms around me and whispers, “Stay.”_

_A shiver runs through me. It’s the first time I’ve heard Shouyou sound so … quiet. Calm. Resolute._

_And just for a moment, the old fear returns—the fear of overwhelming emotion, fear of feeling something much bigger than myself. It paralyses my thoughts and cripples my love for him._

_I slip from his grasp and get to my feet. “Let’s practise,” is all I say._

_Shouyou stares at me for a long moment with unreadable eyes, then rises. We continue practising. I set, he spikes, rinse and repeat._

_After we practise for a few hours, Shouyou flops on the grass and doesn’t get up. Late evening colours the sky violet. Stars are already out, cicadas sing in the field._

_I poke him with my foot. “Let’s go, come on.”_

_He grunts and remains motionless._

_I kneel and pull him up by the back of his jacket. “Come on now, don't be lazy.”_

_“Let go,” he says, and shakes me off. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”_

_“Why would you sleep alone? Where’s your roommate?”_

_He doesn’t look at me. “That’s not what I mean,” he mumbles._

_I know what he means. I know what he wants. I want to give him what he wants, too._

_But I don’t. Not tonight._

_I turn away and walk out of the park with a wave. “Well, find your way back safely whenever you feel like getting up,” I say as I leave._

  
  


◑

  
  


I ask Bo-kun for directions to every confectionary in the vicinity. I go to every single one of them and look for it. “Excuse me, is the honey-flavoured Pocky available?” “No, sir. That’s only available in spring. You must wait three more months.”

How do I tell them three months have turned into a year in this cycle of waiting? I move on to the next shop. Then the next, and the one after. Looking for a yellow packet with a bee drawn on it.

It’s 9 by my watch when I finally find it. In a little shop tucked away between an old, decrepit building and a chain store. A pack of honey Pocky that has arrived a little early by chance. Mixed with the other flavours in the shelf, I almost miss it as I’m giving the place a onceover. When the yellow finally catches my eye, I reach for it like I’ve found God.

I buy the pack and walk back slowly to the children’s park. An abandoned park. Strange how I didn’t notice it’s abandoned until now—nobody ever comes here except me.

I sit under the cherry tree and rip open the box. Take out a stick and look around.

“Shouyou-kun,” I call. “Shouyou, are you there?”

He isn’t. It’s too late for all this, but I can’t stop trying, I _have_ to keep trying.

Now that I think back, I can feel it—his gaze on my back, pleading with me to stay. Why didn’t I? I love him, right? I clearly do. Why didn’t I stay?

I close my eyes and go back to the memory. I imagine coming back to the field that night a year ago. I picture him still sitting at the edge of the field, volleyball in hand, staring at the empty gateway of the park.

_Not empty anymore._

The brown eyes sparkle like the stars above our heads. Shouyou smiles when he sees me. He always does. He never ceases to smile in my memories.

_Brown eyes, yes. I can’t believe I once forgot the colour of his eyes._

I stop in front of him. He cranes his neck to look into my eyes; his smile grows bigger when he sees I’m smiling too.

“Sorry for not staying that day,” I say.

He hugs me around the knees and sighs. “Me, too.”

  
  


◑

_“Who said that every wish would be heard and answered … hm-hm-hm … hmmm … hm-hm. Somebody thought of that and someone believed it—and look what it’s done so far … ”_

_His voice floats over Tokyo only to be drowned in the cacophony of horns far below. Cell sites blink red in the distance like distress signals from sinking ships. A cold wind plays with our hair and jackets. I wrap my warm blue scarf tighter around my neck._

_Shouyou-kun leans over the terrace, his back to me. Singing his heart out to the Kermit song since the moment I introduced it to him._

_“You’ve never heard of it before?” I asked, incredulous. I couldn’t imagine anyone living so long without knowing this song. It’s the soundtrack of my childhood._

_Shouyou shook his head and offered his ear. I put the earphone in and played the song. And the rest, as they say, is history._

_“Someday we’ll find that rainbow connection!” he yells from the rooftop. “The lovers, the dreamers, and me!”_

_“Shouyou, come away from the edge,” I say._

_He doesn’t. But he does lean back and stand straight._

_“Why don’t we come to the terrace more often?” he asks. “It’s so lovely. We should come in summer.”_

_“Or during a rainshower,” I suggest._

_His eyes grow wide at that possibility. “I’d like that,” he says._

_“The terrace is usually kept locked by the caretaker,” I tell him. “And he’s not around most of the time. He’s a shitty caretaker. So the roof is a once-in-a-blue-moon place to visit.”_

_“Oh, well.” He leans over the rail once more. “As long as we—”_

_“Get back from the edge.”_

_“God, you’re too careful with me, Atsumu-san. I won’t get blown away in a wind.” He points at me with an accusing finger. “You’re turning into Kiyoomi-san.”_

_I’m not, actually. But he was right that I’m too careful with him. People usually are with what is precious to them._

_When I don’t deny his accusation, he turns away and sighs. Then resumes singing and humming, the words and melody echoing in space._

_I sit and stare at his back. His head looks small and sad with the sun setting behind it. He is wearing a T-shirt I’ve never seen before: a bright yellow monstrosity that can automatically turn anyone ugly, but it looks marvellous on him. It’s the hair, I tell you. And the eyes. And the smile. And the rest of him._

_I take out my phone and click a picture. The cell sites blink at the exact moment and their glare is frozen and captured forever. Shouyou doesn’t notice and probably doesn’t care. At this point it’s kind of a given we want to remember each other in every possible way._

_“Hey, Atsumu-san,” he says, suddenly. “What do you say we go to the beach again?”_

_The wind howls in my ears. Shouyou is a shadow against light. I blink at his silhouette._

_“I’m always up for beach trips,” I say. “I love the sea. But why, out of the blue?”_

_Shouyou turns and looks at me. I think he’s smiling but it’s too dark to tell for sure._

_“You said you didn’t know if you liked me the last time we were there,” he says. “I want to rewrite that memory. You know now, don’t you?”_

_I nod. It’s amazing I was ever confused about something as simple as this._

_He opens his arms wide and leans against the rail. “Then it’s a date.”_

_I smile. “It’s a date,” I say. “But when is this date?”_

_“How about Christmas?”_

_“Christmas night on the beach? That’s romantic.”_

_Shouyou laughs, jubilant. “Then it’s decided … ”_

The bedside clock is too loud in my ears but it’s the only sound in my room and I sorely need its company right now. The curtains flap in the wind. The window has opened at some point—or maybe I never shut it at all, I don’t really remember.

My hands have grown cold. The rest of me is numb. My mind is not working as it should, either. It’s slower and lurches quite often. The only thing that still isn’t close to being dead is the heart, still beating against my ribs, beating out the truth I’ve always known somewhere deep down.

_Nobody tells me where you are. Where are you, Hinata Shouyou?_

The night of my accident: Christmas of 2020. My car crashed into a bridge and toppled into the river. I swam ashore but I don’t remember doing it. They couldn’t find my car; it had already sunk to the bottom to become just another forgotten piece of metal fossil. When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed devoid of life and personality. I should’ve been dead. It was a ‘miracle’ I managed to swim ashore.

The realisation chills me: _I wasn’t alone that night._ I was the one driving, but I wasn’t the only person in the car.

_I know what you do, where you live, but not where you are. Where are you now, Shouyou-kun?_

I reach for my phone and dial his number. The call gets picked on the third ring.

 _“Shouyou,”_ I gasp out. “You’re alive! Thank heavens, you’re _alive …_ Right?” Silence. “Shouyou-kun?”

“You dialled the wrong number,” comes the reply.

 _Omi-kun._ Shit, I called him by mistake.

“Oh, sorry,” I say. “I was—I didn’t—”

“You alright, Atsumu?”

Omi-kun doesn’t sound concerned. Just … resigned. As if finally facing the inevitable.

_The inevitable._

“Omi-Omi,” I whisper. “He’s … he’s alive, right? We broke up, that’s all it is, right? If I stop by Miyagi tomorrow, I’ll find him watching a movie in his room or practising volleyball in the backyard with his sister. Tell me that’s true.”

Silence.

 _“Dammit, why don’t you say something?”_ I scream.

Omi-kun doesn’t react at all. He only asks: “Do you want to stop by Miyagi tomorrow?”

Do I? Do I need a confirmation? Do I really need to keep knowing? I wanted to remember everything I lost, but what if forgetting was a blessing? What if … what if remembering him was so painful that my mind _chose_ to forget him?

I grip the phone tight in my hand. “Omi-Omi,” I say. “Will you come with me to Miyagi tomorrow?”

* * *

# · 9 ·

⊱• **_If all else perished and he remained_** •⊰

WE MEET AT THE station. Omi-Omi arrives so wrapped up, I can barely make out his eyes between his mask and cap. I’m only wearing a black turtleneck and the blue scarf.

At ten in the morning, we leave for Miyagi. It is only a two-hour ride from Tokyo. Why didn’t we visit more often? I would’ve loved to know the place where Shouyou grew up.

Samu’s message arrives a few minutes later.

S A M U : _where r u?_

I text back: _safe._ He doesn’t send any more texts.

I’m usually the one who initiates conversations with Omi-kun. But today is an exception. I don’t feel like talking. To anyone, ever again. I just … I just want to be a rock on a stream and get eroded away slowly.

Omi-Omi must notice something is amiss, because he places a careful arm around my shoulders and keeps it there. That one gesture is enough to tip me over the edge. I cover my mouth with the gloved hands and sob uncontrollably. I sound like a dying engine. Omi-kun doesn’t look at me. His gaze is fixed on the scenery outside, passing by us in a blur.

We reach Miyagi a little past noon and take a bus to the top of the hill where the Hinata-s reside. Get off the bus and walk the rest of the way. Omi-kun finally stops at the house from my memories, complete with sliding doors and thatching on a sloping roof. He rings the bell.

The door is opened by a woman. I take one look at her and freeze.

_The hair. Sunlight for hair._ It’s one thing to see that colour in my dreams and memories, quite another to see it in real life. The past doesn’t do the colour justice. No matter how fondly I remember it, I’ll never be able to capture the vivid brightness of that orange.

No, not orange. Tangerine. An unforgettable shade of tangerine.

The woman looks at us without really seeing us. She is here, but not wholly present. “Yes?” she says.

“We are Shouyou’s teammates,” Omi-kun tells her. “May we please talk to his sister for a little while?”

“Shouyou’s teammates,” she repeats, blankly. “Oh, I see. Yes, you may. Please come in.”

We enter the house, sit on a mat, and wait.

Natsu-kun arrives a few minutes later. If seeing their mother was a jolt, seeing his sister feels like getting hit by a truck. She is … _him_. If he were a girl. Same hair, same physique, same height. Clearly a sports player herself.

But her eyes. They are different. The same brown, but without the light that shines in my memories of Shouyou.

Natsu bows. “Sakusa-san. Atsumu-san.”

We bow back. “Atsumu has questions,” Omi-kun says.

“About?”

“Shouyou.”

She flinches as if struck by heated iron. She looks away, then looks at us, then looks away again. “D-do you … remember him now, Atsumu-san?”

That alone tells me there is so much, _so much_ , more to remember than I already have. All the little details I’ve lost, all the moments that have slipped through my fingers like sand. Besides, I still don’t remember anything from the night of the accident.

So I tell her: “Still remembering.”

Omi-Omi turns to her. “May we go to his room once?”

Natsu stares at us for a long moment. When she blinks, a teardrop spills from her eye.

“Follow me,” she says.

We walk up the stairs. She leads the way even though she doesn’t have to. I know where Shouyou’s room is. I know how he sleeps, what he likes for breakfast, why he doesn’t like to curse. I know too many things about him.

_What do I do with all this knowledge now, Shouyou?_

Natsu-kun slides the door open.

It is said that each person is a dictionary of what they do, what they say, how they think, how they love. And they take this entire dictionary with them when they die. I stand in Hinata Shouyou’s room and find no traces of him in it—at least, not at first. The room is stark and bare, unlike his room back in Tokyo. I spy a futon rolled up in a corner with piles of cartons beside it. When I peep into them, I find old stationery and childhood clothes. His belongings, his whole life, reduced into boxes. Hinata Shouyou may have lived here once, but he doesn’t live here now.

_Where are you, Shouyou?_

Natsu-kun leaves the room and shuts the door quietly behind her. We stand around a bit lost before Omi-kun slowly backs out the door as well.

I turn to him. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t you want to be alone right now?”

“No?”

“Oh.” He sounds confused. “I thought you’d want to be alone … with him.”

I look around the empty room. _As empty as mine._

“He isn’t here,” I say.

Omi-kun gives me a strange look. “Are you sure?” he asks.

I stare at him for a few seconds, puzzled. Then I see it.

A huge bulletin board sits in a corner. Words are written along its edge in white: _Karasuno Year 3._ It once hung on the wall—you can tell from the hole where the nail was hammered into the wall, but now the nail is gone, so the board sits on the floor. Covering every available inch of its red surface is photographs. Hundreds of them, pinned and glued and pasted. Many are taken with one of those little Fujifilms; some are Polaroids; the more recent ones are normal photos printed out from a memory card. And these more recent ones are of me, all of them.

Me in my practice clothes, lying exhausted on the gym floor; me in Hokkaido, surrounded by tulips. One of them is of me sitting at a café, lost in my phone. Another shows just a hand resting on a white bedsheet, the fox ring shining on a finger. So many moments scattered across time, frozen forever on this board.

“There you go,” Omi-kun says. I can hear the smile lacing his words. “All of him in one place.”

_All of him._ As I stand there staring at everything Hinata Shouyou ever held dear, I realise the saying is incomplete: We may take our dictionaries with us when we leave, but pages from them lurk and linger even after we are gone. Fragments of us keep strumming the strings of spacetime. We are not what we do, what we say, how we think, how we love, not really. We are only the memories we leave behind.

Omi-kun is watching me with concerned eyes. “Atsumu?” he says.

I hug him. He hates hugs, but he must make an exception for me just this once. I don’t ask much else of people. Just don’t leave me completely alone, that’s all.

I crumble once more. Huge, ugly sobs that I’m not proud of, that—quite frankly—scare the shit out of me. They don’t sound human; _I_ don’t sound human. I don’t _feel_ like a human, either. I feel like an animal shot with an arrow and left to bleed to death.

Omi-kun doesn’t hug me back, but he doesn’t move away either. And that is enough. Being there is enough.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“What for?”

_For everything._ “For messing up your coat.”

“Wash it for me and I won’t complain,” he says.

I give a weak laugh.

When I finally let go of him, Omi-Omi moves to the cabinet and slides it open. “Do you want your jacket back?” he asks, shuffling through the clothes still not packed into boxes.

“My jacket?”

He doesn’t wait for my answer. As soon as his fingers clutch the black wool, he tugs it out and tosses it to me.

I catch it and hug it to my chest. My black jacket that I bought way back in high school. It still feels soft and comfortable. Familiar. Like home.

Scents can trigger the past. They are ‘special’ in the sense they can bring back memories that might otherwise never be recalled.

So I raise the jacket to my nose and sniff it, the way Shouyou did on the beach. Then I sniff it some more.

When the last memory finally returns, I bury my face in the jacket and scream.

  
  


◑

  
  


_Christmas night. Tires skid on road, bumper front crashes into rails … The car topples over the bridge and goes into freefall … Headlamps glare into the abyss and I scream out … Hands slip over the steering wheel and rotate it wildly … The car jerks once and my head crashes against the wheel … My vision turns blurry … I remember the headlamps vividly. They are so bright, I thought they’ll blind me. For a moment, they do._

_This is just an overview. Devil is in the details._

_Now rewind._

  
  


◑

  
  


_“Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. And all the things you do—they were all yellow … ”_

_I turn up the stereo. Then the heater too as an afterthought. “I haven’t heard this song in a long while,” I say._

_Shouyou fiddles with the seatbelt beside me in the front seat. “Didn’t know you like Coldplay,” he says in between humming the tune._

_“They hit and miss,” I admit. “But the hits are worth it.”_

_“‘So then I took my turn,’” he sings, softly. “‘Oh, what a thing to have done—’”_

_“‘—And it was all yellow,’” I finish, as tuneless as him._

_It makes him smile all the same. A streetlight blazes past and colours his face red. He places a hand on mine on the shift stick and sighs._

_“Atsumu-san?”_

_I glance at him. “Yeah?”_

_Shouyou looks out the window. “I think I love—”_

_An ambulance passes by us, blaring its siren. The sound cuts him off. It cuts off my driving, too. I have to slow down the car and scoot to the edge of the road to make way for its passage._

_When it’s gone, I glance back at Shouyou. “You were saying?”_

_He strokes the fox ring on my finger without replying. Then he swallows and shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he says._

_I study his face. His jaws work as if there really are words, solid and tangible, in his mouth trying to break free._

_“You sure?” I say._

_Shouyou whips around to look at me. “I love you,” he blurts out. “Please don’t be scared.”_

_I keep driving. My hands shake slightly, so I grip the wheel harder. I don’t reply; I can’t. If I open my mouth to speak, all that will come out is air. Breathing is the most I can manage right now._

_But the song on the radio answers his question even as I stay quiet. “Do you know, you know I love you so? You know I love you so … ”_

_“You d-don’t have to say anything,” Shouyou says. (Did he just stammer?) Then he thinks over what he said and adds: “Not right away.”_

_“Me, too,” I say._

_Shouyou nods. “Yeah, alri—”_

_He breaks off, blinking. Turns around completely to face me. His yellow shirt wrinkles in the process as does his jeans._

_“What did you say?” he asks._

_I swallow. This is it. Jump over the cliff._

_“I love you,” I say. “With everything I’ve got.”_

_The car takes a right turn and heads south. It stops at a red signal. Shouyou takes that opportunity to unclasp his seatbelt and lean over my seat. Hugs me tight and presses his face into the crook of my neck._

_“I’m happy,” he breathes into my skin, making me shiver. “You make me happy.”_

_The red turns green. The car moves forward. Shouyou returns to the seat and puts on the seatbelt once again. “I’ll love you with everything I’ve got, too,” he says, determined. In the dark, there is a fire you can see burning in his eyes. A warm brown turning a molten red._

_“And if we still fail?” I ask._

_Shouyou looks out the window. His breaths fog the glass and he draws a smiley in it. “We can always leave,” he says._

_Yes, we can always leave. There’s nothing forcing me to stay. It has to be a choice on my part. A choice I will have to make everyday._

_“Oh, look,” Shouyou says, suddenly. “It’s snowing.”_

_It is. Big, fat flakes that sink to earth like deadweight. Not the kind that melts, either. They stay on the road and collect like a dangerous carpet._

_I smile at the crystals. “I like snow. Winter is my favourite season.”_

_“Really?” Shouyou looks surprised. “I would’ve thought late summer. Or autumn.”_

_I shake my head. “Winter all the way. Speaking of which.” I glance at the tires in my wing mirror. “Maybe I should put on the chains?”_

_Shouyou peers at the sky. “Is it necessary? It doesn’t look like it will last. You can still see the stars.”_

_He’s right. This isn’t a blizzard. It’s just a heavy cloud passing by._

_So I keep driving. The song ends and loops to the beginning. I frown at my phone. Oh, I didn’t realise I had it on repeat. Shouyou doesn’t seem to mind. He rests his head against the window and listens to it with closed eyes._

_By the time we reach the bridge that takes you to the beach, the snow has begun to collect. They freeze the air, the metal, the road._

_Shouyou calls my name again. “Atsumu-san?”_

_I keep my eyes on the road. “Hm?”_

_“If you could stay forever in a moment—only one moment—which will it be?”_

_“None,” I say. “I don’t want any moment to last forever.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because they snap if you stretch ’em too thin. Moments are not elastic.”_

_“But what if you could?” he asks, persistent._

_“Why don’t you answer your own question?”_

_“Fine.” This is what he wanted, anyway. He asked the question so he could answer it._

_“When we first met on the beach,” he says. “That’s the one for me.”_

_I wasn’t expecting this. Doesn’t that brief moment pale in comparison to all the other triumphs in his life?_

_“Wow,” is all I can say._

_Shouyou laughs, a little self-conscious. “I wanted to squeeze your hand as we walked down the beach,” he confesses. “You remembered me—that was making me brave. But in the end, I … I chickened out.”_

_He looks at me. I tear my eyes from the empty road and look back._

_“I’d like to meet you on the beach again,” he says. “And this time—”_

_The car skids. The brakes fail. That animalistic screech of tires against asphalt and ice. The car veers, then swings around. Once, twice. I hit my head on the wheel as Shouyou clings to me. I can’t feel my head. Hell, I can’t feel anything except Shouyou’s fingers digging into my arm. A huge, grating crash as the car breaks through the rails and does a cartwheel in the air. My vision narrows to a line._

_We fall all the way to the river churning far below. The flow is deep in this part of the city. No boulders to crush us. So we land in water with a splash that echoes across the universe. A sound I know I will always remember. It sounds like death by drowning._

_The next thing I know—we are floating. Weightless and infinite. The car bobs like a cork in an ocean. My head throbs against the steering wheel. Something sticky trickles down its side and collects in my ear. I try to raise my hand and see what it is, try to find what is leaking out of my mind, but my hands stay limp wherever they are. I can’t feel them, either. I think I’m going into shock, I can’t feel anything …_

_No. Shouyou’s fingers clutching my sleeve. I can still feel that._

_I raise my head. No, I don’t raise my head. I just think of doing that. In actuality, the whole of me lies paralysed in fear and shock in the driver’s seat. And … look. There are cracks on our windows already. The water knocks for permission to enter._

_I want to tell the river that it’s useless, that it will never fit into this little car. It has just too much water to be contained in here. But the river seems determined to try, anyway._

_The song is still playing. My eyes, what little they can still see, focus on Shouyou-kun. And my heart, however softly it still beats, leaps to my throat._

_He’s alive. He’s still alive._

_And he looks terrified. I’ve never seen fear in his eyes before, but now it colours all of him in shades of red and gold. He’s bleeding, too. I want to comfort him, to heal his wounds, but that’s impossible. I can’t move, I can’t fucking move!_

_Shouyou looks at me, then. He notices my barely-opened eyes and comes close._

_“Atsumu-san?” His voice is trembling. “Atsumu, please. Look at me.”_

_His scent envelopes me. It’s a strange scent. If sunlight had a scent, this would be it._

_He presses a finger to my wrist and takes my pulse. Is he checking if I’m alive? Do I already look dead? I must. I feel dead. Only the mind is in overgear, manufacturing thoughts faster than I can keep up._

_Once he is satisfied I’m alive, Shouyou’s hands move down to my waist. They fumble for something for a few minutes. All that while, the river flows into the car like an unwelcome guest._

_When the water reaches the stereo and muffles the song, he finally manages to get my seatbelt free._

_The windshield and windows shatter completely. The river gushes in. The car sinks below the surface like deadweight._

_We are drowning. It happens in slow motion. Water slows down everything, even death. We will take a long time to die. And it will happen in stages:_

**_Surprise._ ** _Water enters my ears and nose. I open my mouth out of instinct to breathe; it flows into my lungs. But the cold slaps me conscious for a moment. I see Shouyou floating beside me, reaching for his own seatbelt now. Bubbles swim out from his nostrils and lips. He’s still holding his breath, but it’s already been too long, he can’t hold it much longer. His bright orange hair is like dead seaweed swaying in freshwater. He doesn’t look like himself …_

**_Involuntary breath holding._ ** _I suddenly have an epiphany: This is not how I want to remember him. This is not Hinata Shouyou. Hinata Shouyou knows how to fly, he can’t possibly drown. I hold my breath and with all my strength reach for his seatbelt. My hands find his. I take his shaking fingers in mine and squeeze them. Calm down, I think. We need to stay calm. Together we work on the seatbelt …_

**_Unconsciousness._ ** _… And get it free. Shouyou immediately swims out of the car through the empty space where the windscreen was. He clasps my wrist tight and drags me along. Sharp fragments of glass cut at my face and open more cuts that bleed. The water turns purple with our blood._

_I weigh much more than him. How will he save me? He’ll die if he tries, and this is Shouyou we’re talking about, of course he’ll try._

_I try to jerk my hand free from his grip. Fuck, let go. Go along without me, you haven’t been hurt yet, go along now. Let go, dammit … I never realised just how strong Shouyou is. His fingers are like iron around my wrist and they manage to pull me out of the car._

_The song dies a natural death once water flows into the stereo. It sputters, utters a lonesome “Look at the stars”, and fades into silence._

_I am out of the car. Both of us are. Now the only thing left is to swim up._

_We turn our gaze towards the surface. Lights blink far on the other side. Streetlights. Decorations. Tonight is Christmas and Tokyo is celebrating._

_Shouyou slips an arm around me and goes to swim._

_But something tugs him back violently. I feel his hand slack around my wrist and hastily hold on to it._

_Something is wrong. I can’t see properly, but something keeps pulling him back. Shouyou is not free, not really. He’s still attached to the car. His other hand claws desperately at his throat to get rid of what is tying him down._

_I realise a moment too late what it is._

_The necklace. The thin gold chain has tangled irreversibly around shards of glass of the destroyed windshield. It presses against his neck, biting into his skin. Pulling him back, keeping him here. The half-eaten sun bounces in the water._

_I grab his wrist and pull. Shouyou looks at me, eyes bulging with fear. They scream for help, and I’m trying, fucking hell, I’m trying my best. I reach for the chain around his neck and gnaw at it, but it’s too thin, it keeps slipping from my fingers. Shouyou holds on tighter to my wrist. That will definitely leave a mark. My hands have turned white with lack of oxygen …_

_Oxygen. Now there’s a beautiful word._

_Shouyou finally opens his mouth to breathe. No, not breathe. To take his last breath._

_His hand goes limp around my wrist. It falls away, sliding the ring out of my finger._

_The fox stares at me with diamond eyes full of silent accusation as it sinks to the depths of the river._

**_Convulsion._ ** _Jolts wreck his body for one last time. Shouyou looks quiet and peaceful, floating in water, staring without seeing, living without breathing. He’s still alive. He cannot die, of course. He will always live._

_As I watch, he grows smaller and smaller. It takes me a while to realise he isn’t shrinking, no. I’m floating upward. When I reach the surface, the headlamps flicker out, and the yellow car sinks into darkness taking Shouyou with it._

_I break through the surface with a splash. It’s the cold that hits me awake again. Snow is falling; it melts into the river, on my hair, on my chest. I touch my face and my fingers come away bloody._

_That’s strange. Why am I bleeding? How did I hurt myself? When did I hurt myself?_

_Adrenaline courses through my veins and I look up._

_The stars are bright tonight. I’ve no idea where I am. Where am I? What am I doing here, swimming in a river, out so late in the dead of winter? How did I even get here? Ridiculous. I should get home. Samu is waiting for me. Bo-kun will be there too, as will Omi-Omi. We’ll have a huge Christmas party. And tomorrow, I might just go to the sea. I hear it is beautiful this time of year._

_I swim away, looking for land. There. The streetlights far above, that must be the road. I again wonder how I got down here. I can be impulsive, but not so much that I’ll go for a dip in freezing temperature._

_Before I leave, I stop and look back for a second._

_I feel like I’m forgetting something. Something important to me._

_But the river is quiet and serene, not a ripple to be seen on its surface._

_I turn away and keep swimming. Whatever. We forget things all the time._

* * *

# · 0 ·

⊱• **_I believe there is another world waiting for us.  
A better world. And I'll be waiting for you there _** •⊰

YELLOW. HIS SHIRT, THE tulips, the sun. My hair, my car, the sand under my feet. Packs of honey-flavoured Pocky and cheesecakes. The chain that killed him, the ring I lost. All of us, yellow. 

I threw away the yellow notepad and thanked Nekomata-sensei. I still visit him from time to time to talk about stuff. He is good company.

I sit on the beach and rip open the box of honey Pocky that is only available in spring. It fills the shelves of every shop now. Spring is finally here.

I googled his name last night.

B O R N : **June 21, 1996**

D I E D : **December 25, 2020**

I slid my hands across the shelf in my room and all my trophies crashed to the floor. Inarizaki would proudly display all the trophies won by its sports teams. Goddamn hypocrites. If you don’t need memories, you don’t need awards either. You toss them away as soon as you receive them and move on.

But we do need memories, don’t we? It’s the memories that keep us going.

I gaze at the sea as the sun rises over a new day. Waves whisper in a language no one living remembers anymore. The tide is turning. All that was lost yesterday will now be returned. No wonder the sea calls to me. All rivers join the sea at the end of the day.

They never found my car. They never found him.

But I do. I’ve finally realised what Shouyou meant when he said he’s  _ everywhere. _ Everywhere I look, I find him. After all, I have been unconsciously mourning him for over a year now.

_ You wanted to meet me on the beach. _ _ Just like the first time we met. _

I see him now. In my black jacket, T-shirt and shorts. Playing with the waves, splashing about, kicking the water, all without causing a single ripple.

_ Shouyou, I see you. I know you’re a figment of my imagination, a memory long gone. But you’re here with me now, so if I call your name, will you answer? _

I take a deep breath and yell out:

“Shouyou-kun! Can you hear me?”

He stops and looks at the beach. Then he comes running towards me.

Shouyou stands in front of me, dripping water on the sand, smelling of sunlight. Warm and pleased. Alive.

He gives a soft, surprised laugh and asks me the only thing that matters:

“You remember me?”

I offer him the honey Pocky he couldn’t wait for. Tears spill from my eyes and I laugh with him.

“I remember you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t curse me too much for writing this. Rage at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sallyhopewrites?s=09) if you want.
> 
> Try the honey Pocky sometime. It tastes strange, but it grows on you.


End file.
